Mystical MumboJumbo
by Catnip2
Summary: The adventures of Sam and Dean Winchester on the hunt. Contains original Ceiling Demon arc. AU.
1. Liderc

"Mystical Mumbo-Jumbo"  
By: Catnip2 

_**Lidérc**_

"Run! Run! It's coming down!" Kevin Tildy yelled at the top of his voice as the earth shook all around him. Men were running past him, men he worked with, men he knew, men who had trusted him. It was dark, the few lamps that worked swung to and fro as the support beams creaked under pressure. Solid rock began to tumble off of the walls and ceiling, falling underfoot of the panicked men trying to get out.  
"It's a cave in! A cave in! Hurry! Hurry! Run! Cave in!" Tildy continued yelling. A captain goes down with his ship, and a foreman waits for the last man. His father would stay, stay until the last man got out, stay until everyone was safe. His father would stay until the walls came tumbling down, and so would Kevin.  
"Demons worry when the wizard is near, he turns tears into joy," Dean attempted to sing, tapping his hand on the steering wheel in rhythm. Sam sat gloomily beside him, giving serious thought to the benefits of homicide.

"Everyone's happy when the wizard walks by," Dean finished this bit alone, as Sam hit the 'eject' button and haphazardly threw the cassette into the back seat. With an unflattering pout Sam stared out the window, clearly not wishing to discuss the abrupt act. Dean paid the pout no mind.  
"I was listening to that!" he yelled louder then needed to be.  
"You could hear it above whatever the hell you were doing?" Sam questioned. Now Dean pouted, but he didn't mean it. He had only been 'singing' to annoy his little brother. He intended to make up for two years gone.  
"Dad never complained."  
"Why would he? He's as tone deaf as you are," Sam said and silence fell over the car. Sam could have thanked god for that.  
"How much farther is it to, wherever…?" Dean finally asked. Sam sighed and pulled the crumpled map up from under his legs. He found their highlighted destination and looked around for any road signs.  
"That depends, where on earth are we?"  
"I think we're on the 33."  
"Going east or west?"  
"I dunno. There's a compass in the glove compartment," Dean suggested. Sam jiggled the glove compartment's handle a little and it popped open. A handgun fell out of it and between Sam's legs to the car floor. He reached down and picked it up, giving his brother a questioning glare.  
"I've been looking for that…" Dean said. Sam pushed a few things in the compartment aside, a cross, a bottle of holy water, a package of silver bullets, and, oddly enough, a pair of gloves. Finally he found the rumored compass and latched the glove compartment with everything stuffed back inside. Sam opened the compass and let it find north.  
"So which way are we going?" Dean asked. Sam frowned at him.  
"South."  
"Is that good?"  
"The 33 only goes east and west. We're lost…" Sam told him. Dean shrugged.  
"It's not like we had a reason for going to, wherever, anyway…"  
"We can't just fool around with this, Dean. We need to have a plan, something logical!"  
"Alright, alright, Mr. Spock, we can be logical about this. I know I saw a sign for the 33 not long ago so it has to be around here somewhere. There's a sign coming up, what's it say?" Dean asked. Both men leaded forward slightly to get a better view of it. Once they passed they both slumped back.  
"'Welcome to Oklahoma…'" Sam answered.  
"I don't suppose wherever is in Oklahoma…" Dean asked and Sam only shook his head in response.  
"Washington…"  
"Okay, oh well. Let's try to be logical in Oklahoma then…"

When the Chevy pulled into the next town Dean maneuvered it into a parking spot in front of 'Ma's Cuntry Cookery,' the 'o' from 'country' having vanished long ago. Dean thought the name was rather funny, so they stopped to eat there and not McDonalds like Sam had wanted. A small bell announced their entrance and they took a booth along the window, the car insight. The other inhabitants of the restaurant were the type not generally described as 'people,' they were more along the line of 'folks.' Scruffy, incredibly tired looking people who had done the same thing every day for the past forty years. The Winchesters were new and were therefore of interest to them. That was, of course, until a middle-aged woman walked out of the kitchen wearing a pink uniform and over to another waitress behind the counter.  
"Kent just had me deliver to Ruth Tildy's, and Jesus, Karen, the woman looks even worse than before," the woman gossiped. A teenage girl in an identical pink uniform stood at Sam and Dean's table, giving them printed menus slipped into essay covers. The special had something to do with omelets. The men ordered drinks and the bubblegum chewer walked away.  
"Anything look good to you?" Sam asked skimming over the menu.  
"Does this really say 'stone soup?'" Dean asked in reply.  
"Ever since Kevin died in that cave-in Ruth's just gotten worse and worse," Karen gossiped back.  
"Wanna try it?" Sam asked.  
"No… but you go ahead," Dean replied, grimacing at the menu.  
"Do you remember how pretty she used to be? While now she looks like some sorta mummy or something. Right out of the crypt."  
"They sell franch fries, I wonder what those are…" Dean muttered.  
"You know them as typos."  
"She can't look that bad, she's only, what, 30 something?"  
"They have chili."  
"I bet Soylent Green is the main ingredient."  
"No, I'm serious. It looks like someone sucked the life right out of her. Some sorta vampire or something," the woman said. At this Sam and Dean looked in their direction.  
"Vampires suck blood, silly."  
"Well whatever sucks life, it got to her! Scared me half to death just standing by her. I tell you, something is wrong with that woman."

"Dean, when's the last time a vampire came to _Oklahoma_?" Sam asked as his older brother rifled through a phone book. They had eaten a meal barely passable by the Department of Health, and found the town's small library and the phonebook within it.  
"I know it's not a vampire, the fat one was right, they don't suck life."  
"Then what are we doing here?"  
"We're being logical. When a woman goes from 30 to mummy, something is wrong, something in our line of work," Dean explained. Sam thought for a moment.  
"Any idea what it is?" he asked.  
"No," Dean said running his finger along the lists of names, "but you can look through this," he handed Sam their dad's journal. Eyeing the book almost suspiciously Sam sat down at a near by table and began to look through it. Spider demons, mara, changelings… If Stephen King had written this it'd be a made for TV movie by now.  
"I found her!" Dean said excitedly, "Tildy, 121 Cherry Lane! Let's go!"

Over time, it is possible for a house to reflect those who dwell in it. While most houses on Cherry Lane were bright and happy, number 121 had weather beaten roof tiles, fading paint, and drooping shutters. It was a house in mourning.  
"Yeesh," Sam said as they stood in front of it, "_something_ is haunting that place."  
"Any luck from the journal?"  
"I only looked at it for a second."  
"You could just say 'no,' you don't have to make excuses."  
"I'm not making excuses!"  
"Come on, let's go," Dean stopped the argument cold and headed down the over grown path.  
"How long ago did this Kevin guy die?" Sam asked stepping over a sprinkler imbedded in the weeds.  
"I'll remember to ask," Dean answered coming to a stop in front of the gloomy front door. He knocked and they waited. He knocked again and they waited. He raised his fist once more when the door opened a crack and a small gray eye peered at them from the shadows.  
"What do you want?" she demanded harshly.  
"We're from the gas company. There have been complaints of a gassy smell coming from this side of the street. Do you mind if we look at your stove?" Dean asked smiling at her, even flashing a fake ID.  
"I don't smell anything," she accused them, still hidden behind the door.  
"Ah, you may have gotten used to it, that can happen," Sam offered.  
"It'll only take a minute and is much less painful then going up in a giant ball of flames. May we come in?" Dean still smiled at her. The gray eye twitched slightly.  
"Fine, fine," she said and opened the door. Before them stood a thin woman of a graying complexion and wrinkled flesh. Her hair was wiry and thin and as gray as her skin. The woman's appearance was set off by a flowery green dress with only served to make her look older and more withered away. The waitress was right; somewhere there was an empty sarcophagus.  
"Thank you so much, where's the kitchen?" Dean asked stepping into the house before she could change her mind.  
"At the end of the hall," she spat.  
"Wonderful. Sid, will you go check that?" Dean asked Sam, taking him by surprise.  
"Um, yeah, sure," Sam said walking off down the hall.  
"Doesn't he need tools?" Ruth asked.  
"Oh," Dean waved it off, "Sid's seen so many broken gas lines he can tell right away. Now, how old is your stove?"  
"Um, about 12 years, I think."  
"You never thought of replacing it?"  
"Never came up."  
"Okay, then. Have you noticed any changes around the home? Any discolorations? Gas can do that," he lied.  
"Nope. Everything's fine."  
"That's good. Do you live here alone?" Dean asked. At that the woman ruffled slightly.  
"Yes, ever since my dear husband passed away, over a year ago. What does that have to do with anything?" she demanded.  
"I'm sorry to hear that. I was just wondering if there might be anyone else who may have noticed anything. I don't suppose his body was pink? Gas can do that, too."  
"I don't know, he died in a cave-in, down at the mines. He was never recovered…" she said so softly Dean almost regretted asking the question. There was a silence and Sam walked over to them.  
"I, um, didn't see a leak," he said. Dean's smile went back over his face.  
"Well that's excellent, we can go now. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Tildy," he bowed slightly and Sam rolled his eyes.  
"Leave, just leave!" she said moving to push them out the door. They were both a step ahead of her, not wanting to be touched by the decaying hands. After they were both in the car Sam finally asked what they had learned.  
"We're going spelunking," Dean replied as they drove off.

"I don't see the point in all of this…" Dean said pacing back and forth behind Sam. The younger brother shook his head in almost disgust. The seat of Dean's pants must have so many frequent flier miles.  
"You don't see the point in doing research before heading into a cave that recently collapsed?" Sam asked him.  
"It wasn't 'recent,' it was over a year ago. Besides, we just walk in, step around some rubble, and make sure the guy is there. It's easy!"  
"Easy? Trained specialized dug there for two weeks, and they still only managed to recover one body out of four lost," Sam shared his newly discovered information. This did give Dean a bit of pause, but then the image of Ruth Tildy flashed through his mind and he cringed again. Man that woman had been ugly.  
"I'll give you tonight to do research, but tomorrow we're going in," he asserted. Sam swiveled back around to the computer screen.  
"How generous of you…"

It was almost noon when the Winchesters managed to find the right cave. Caution tape and almost a dozen signs to turn back were at first their only real obstacles. Not long after they lost the light from the outside world did things get a little rocky. It didn't help any that somewhere there was a dripping sound of a pool forming under a rock that was slowly getting on Dean's nerves. He was not a tremendous fan of silence. Silence is always when they attack.  
"Echo!" he yelled and listened as his voice returned to him over and over again. Sam hit him rather sharply with a flashlight.  
"Do you not understand what a 'cave-in' is?" he demanded, carefully eyeing the stone walls around them.  
"Oh relax. It's not like I'm going to start drilling," he paused, "besides, you know you want to do it too."  
"I do not."  
"Sure you do. An echo is one thing everybody loves. That and a zamboni," Dean told him. Sam gave him a questioning glance and argued something over in his head.  
"Echo!" Sam yelled and grinned slightly as it was returned to him.  
"There, feel better?" Dean asked with a smile. Sam's face quickly went to a stern grimace and he walked out ahead of this brother.

Dean didn't like losing sight of his brother, but it was only a few seconds or so before he found Sam standing where two caves split off from the central one. He had his flashlight on a print out of the caves he had somehow been able to access on the computer.  
"So, which way?" Dean asked him looking down both as far as he could.  
"Well…" Sam rotated the map slightly, "the cave-in occurred down there." He pointed down the left tunnel.  
"Well then, after you," Dean motioned Sam ahead of him. After about a minute of more walking in silence boulders began to be seen on the tunnel floor, they got progressively larger until finally the two men came to a caved-in dead end.  
"Well that's just perfect…" Dean said picking up a loose pebble from the ground and throwing it at the barricade. Suddenly there was a deep rumbling noise coming from all around them. Instantly they were both at a full run away from the dead end and stopped just short of where the tunnels had split. Breathlessly they turned around and looked behind them, expecting to see rumble following them. There was nothing but the cave.  
"You ran," Dean told Sam, huffing for breath.  
"So did you," Sam huffed back.  
"Yeah, well, I'd rather not die being crushed to death. I'd prefer, you know, getting an arrow through the heart, or a succubus, yeah… that one sounds nice…" Dean rambled still breathing heavily. Sam just shook his head and straightened up.  
"Do you want to try that again?" Sam asked, making it clear he did NOT wish to, but if Dean was going to walk back there Sam would have to follow, if only to keep his brother from doing something stupid.  
"No," Dean shook his head, "I think it's safe to say he's dead…"  
"So can we get out of here?"  
"Yeah, we got research to do," Dean said starting to leave. Sam paused for a moment.  
"We have _what_?"

"Nothing like this has happened here before?" Dean asked from behind Sam. The two had gotten a cheap motel room and Sam had set up his laptop while Dean flipped through their father's journal. The room was like every other motel room they had been in, badly decorated and with an odd smell.  
"Like I said, nothing. The closest we got is a woman that died of dehydration," Sam told him, this time hoping Dean would actually listen.  
"That might be an explanation for what we saw…" Dean said rather interested.  
"Did that look like dehydration to you?"  
"No, but these people haven't seen what we've seen. When was that?"  
Sam clicked a few more buttons.  
"1892…" he answered. Dean frowned.  
"Well how about the three other guys that got killed in the cave-in? Why is it only this guy's wife?"  
"Um… The other three didn't have wives…"  
"Do you suppose that could be a factor?"  
"How's your research doing, by the way?" Sam turned around to ask, obviously feeling a bit pestered.  
"It's fine…" Dean said and sat down on one of the beds with squeaked under his weight. He put his attention on the journal. Sam sighed and turned back to his computer screen. There were a few moments of silence.  
"Hey I was thinking…" Dean started, "I know this isn't a vampire, but it might be a type of vampire."  
"Like that succubus you were talking about?" Sam asked, still clicking away on his laptop.  
"Well this is a woman, and an incubus only gives you one night and you're gone. Besides, _ew_…" Dean shivered at the image of the mummy that was Ruth Tildy sans clothing. Sam cringed slightly at the idea too.  
"Never allude to that again…"  
"How about a Chiang-shih?" Dean asked.  
"Nuh uh. I saw garlic in her kitchen, it'd never come near the place."  
"A Gayal?"  
"Doesn't the deceased have to be from India for that to work?"  
"Generally…"  
"Well, then, I suggest you move on."  
"How about a Lidérc?" Dean asked. Sam lifted his head from his computer screen and looked around at his brother.  
"What's it say?"  
"A woman mourning for a dead husband might one day find him standing in front of her. They'd, um, couple, and over several nights the Lidérc would feed off of her until she joined him in the darkness…" Dean read. They looked at each other for a moment.  
"Any way to prove it?" Sam asked.  
"Um, yeah," Dean turned back to the book, "the night it first appears a star streaks across the sky almost on fire."  
Sam clicked quickly on his computer.  
"Here it is. A couple of nights ago the local newspaper reported a 'fantastic cosmic display in the sky.'"  
"Cosmic display in the sky, imagine that…"  
"From the looks of that woman she might only have one night left, at most."  
"And that would be tonight…"  
"Yes it would."  
"What time is it?" Dean asked looking around for a clock. Sam glanced back at his computer screen.  
"Quarter to nine."  
"That would be _now_. Come on! We gotta go!" Dean grabbed his coat and keys and headed for the door, Sam not far after him.

Every citizen of Cherry Lane was made aware of Sam and Dean's presence as their car screeched around the corner and roared down the road.  
"What do we do if it's in there with her?" Sam asked, clutching his seat belt.  
"We close our eyes and shoot," Dean said hitting the glove compartment with his fist, making it pop open and its contents spill over Sam. Sam was too concerned with Dean watching the road to mind the clutter in his lap.  
"We can't just shoot! We might hit her!"  
"There's only one other way to get rid of it. Hold on," Dean swung the car into a parking spot with surprising grace. "Grab the gun!" he said getting out. Sam did so before he slammed the door after him.  
"What's the other way?" Sam asked as they jogged up to the house.  
"Make her see it."  
"See what?"  
"Mrs. Tildy!" Sam banged on the door, "Mrs. Tildy!" he yelled again.  
"Dean, see what?" Sam demanded. Dean was unable to answer as he was kicking the door in. There was a ghastly noise coming from upstairs.  
"There're the stairs, let's go," Sam said and lead the charge, now too in the moment to bother asking questions. The men raced up the flight of stairs and followed the sound to a room toward the back. Dean kicked the door open and they discovered the mummy Ruth Tildy on the bed underneath her not dead looking husband.  
"_OoH_!" Sam and Dean cried out in unison, recoiling and shielding their eyes from the sight.  
"I'm gonna be sick," Sam muttered as the two on the bed noticed them. Ruth tried to cover her wrinkled flesh with a sheet, still youthfully embarrassed.  
"Get out!" she yelled at them, almost crying.  
"He's not your husband!" Dean yelled to her as the naked figure of her husband got off the bed and headed toward them. Dean shot him once in the heart.  
"No!" Ruth protested, but the figure barely flinched and soon the mark was gone. This time Sam shot him twice in the chest, but the man kept coming.  
"Look at his feet! Look at your husband's feet!" Dean yelled to her as he and Sam retreated backward into the hall, still firing. The woman did, and so did Sam.  
There, almost comically, at the end of the figure's left leg instead of a human foot, was a goose's.  
"What the hell!" Sam yelled in surprise.  
"Kevin?" Ruth's voice trembled. At that the figure stopped, a look of disappointment washed briefly over his face, and then he was gone. Somewhat hesitantly the Winchester brothers peeked back into the bedroom. On the bed was a round, fleshy woman in her mid-30's, clutching the sheet to her chest. Tears ran down her face.

"So you mean to tell me, that for all of their magical powers and mysterious life sucking abilities, every Lidérc has a goose foot?" Sam asked as Dean drove them along a highway. Dean nodded.  
"All the widow has to do it see it, and the thing is gone," he explained. Sam shook his head and looked out the window.  
"That's crazy. How do they ever kill a woman? She must always see it…"  
"A lot of women don't want to see it," Dean told him and Sam nodded, understanding it. If Jess came back…Sam closed his eyes… he might not want to see it either.  
"So," Dean started, noticing the gloom beginning to surround his brother, "logic prevails in Oklahoma?"  
Sam looked at him and smiled slightly.  
"Apparently it does…"


	2. Tall Deer

_**Tall Deer**_

* * *

12-year-old Martin Bartel ran through the dark Colorado woods. His ankle was twisted and the brush cut at his arms and legs but he didn't pay it any attention. The only thing he knew was the pounding of hoof beats coming up behind him, faster and faster. It was after him, it was getting closer. How could he do this? How could he have taken that dare? Why didn't he listen to his mother?

Why didn't he stay out of the woods?

* * *

It was nearing midnight so Dean had given the Black Sabbath a rest and seemed rather content just driving silently along in the dark. Sam was in the seat next to him as usual, leaning back and trying to get some sleep. They had decided, after some discussion, to return to Colorado. Their father had sent them there on purpose and neither felt confident they had found out why. It really wasn't much, but it was all they had. A tune from a random commercial Dean had seen recently found its way into his head and his hand began to tap slightly on the steering wheel. Sam didn't notice, with his back to his brother all Sam cared about was how uncomfortable the car suddenly felt and how little leg room he had.

Sam's attempts at sleep were interrupted when the distant sound of a car horn blaring reached them.

"What the...?" Dean said looking in the review mirror as the horn became louder. Curious Sam turned around and saw car lights gaining on them in the darkness.

"Joy riders," Dean grumbled and steered closer to one side of the (until now) lonely road. The small Honda passed by them so quickly the Chevy shook slightly. The car's horn died out as they passed. Casually Dean looked in the rear view mirror again as he steered back to the middle of the road.

"Now what?" he asked himself. Sam looked back again anyway. There was a fierce red light behind them now, it was getting closer. The sound of hoof beats filled their ears and Dean swerved out of its way. Regaining themselves, Dean and Sam watched the vanishing image of a man riding a horse.

"What the hell was that?" Sam demanded, not quite in a panic.

"I dunno. But it sure looked evil, didn't it?" Dean replied, his voice almost enthusiastic. The car began to roar as Dean pressed harder on the accelerator.

"We're chasing it?" Sam asked surprised.

"Hell yeah! We got to help those people, right?" Dean said as an excuse for a car chase. Sam gulped and nodded, tightening his seat belt. Finally the red light came back into view, and though they were lost in the horse's glare, so were the tail lights of the Honda.

"Do you see a head on that guy?" Sam yelled to be heard over the car's engine.

"What are you thinking, Ichabod?"

"I dunno, I just can't really see a head!" Sam said and Dean pressed the gas a little further. Just as they could hear the hoof beats again the ghostly figure stopped. Dean quickly hit the brakes and the Chevy screeched around and around before coming to a full stop. Both men got out quickly, Dean heading for the trunk and some weapons. They saw the Honda smashed rather securely into a tree, both doors wide open. The red ghosts were about twenty feet away from the wrecked car on the driver's side. The man (who had a head) had gotten off of the horse and was kneeling on the ground battling with something. The horse was prancing back and forth in front of woman trying frantically to get past it. Dean took a pistol and fired it at the horse. The bullet passed through it and hit a tree somewhere in the forest. The shot got the attention of the ghosts and the woman battling with the horse. As Sam and Dean got closer they could see the man had long hair and some sort of a knife in his hand. He had someone pinned under him, struggling to get him off. The distraction of Dean's shot caused gave woman enough time to jet past the horse and tackle the man. He shrugged her off as if she were nothing.

"Nikki!" the person under the man yelled. It was a woman's voice with a Southern accent. Dean and Sam watched as Nikki got up and tried again to tackle the man, but they didn't see what happened as the horse began to charge at them. Dean took several more shoots at it before a loud whistle filled the air and the horse vanished. They looked over and saw only the two women on the ground. Nikki was leaning tentatively over the one that the man had been attacking.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked as they approached. Both women looked at him. Several strands of Nikki's long wavy brown hair had come out of her ponytail and gave her a slightly crazed looked. The other woman sat up with a grumble and put her hand to her forehead. Blood covered much of her face and up into her short dreadlocks. Both women were Black and could easily be sisters. Nikki looked to be in her early 20's, while the other could be almost 30.

"We're fine, thanks," the bleeding woman said as Nikki helped her up.

"What was that thing doing to you?" Dean asked finally feeling safe enough to lower the pistol.

"Trying to scalp me…" the woman said as Nikki walked her over to lean against the Honda. Nikki opened one of the back doors and leaned into the car. The other woman looked at it in disgust and shook her head. "I'm glad we have insurance…"

"What exactly was that thing?" Sam asked her.

"It was nothing," she replied as Nikki returned to her side with a first-aid kit. Sam offered to hold it for her.

"It was a ghost. Why was it chasing you?" Dean asked as the woman pulled her hand away from her head. The wound seemed largely superficial.

"'Cause we pissed it off. Now who are you guys?" she demanded right before Nikki swabbed the cut with alcohol.

"I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean," Sam said, flinching a bit at how much the alcohol must sting. The woman's reaction left little to the imagination.

"Yeah, who the hell are you?" Dean asked curtly. Sam turned back and gave him a stare.

"I'm Alex, this is my sister Nikki," Alex said. Nikki looked at them briefly and smiled.

"Are you hunters?" Dean asked seriously. Alex was silent for a moment.

"Yeah," she finally admitted. It was then Sam finally realized that Alex's neck and wrists were covered in necklaces and bracelets; he could make out several religious symbols and protective charms. Nikki only had one necklace, but he couldn't see what was on the end of it.

"You must not be very good at it," Dean said and made an almost snorting sound. Alex frowned.

"Bad night…" she grumbled. Nikki nudged her with her elbow as she applied butterfly bandages to Alex's head. Alex sighed in defeat. "Thank you for helping us," she said reluctantly.

"No problem. We're hunters too," Sam told her.

"Sam!" Dean yelled at him.

"What? I've never met another hunter before!" Sam defended himself. Dean scoffed and shook his head.

"So you guys are ghost hunters too?" Alex asked. She had somewhat assumed it after Dean asked if she was.

"No," Dean told them, "we hunt more than just ghosts."

"There's more?" Alex asked, now genuinely surprised. Even Nikki turned to look at them.

"There's a lot more," Sam told them, almost amused they didn't know it. The women looked slightly, nervous, about that.

"So are you here for Tall Deer?" Alex asked them.

"What's that?" Sam answered her question.

"The ghost, it's his name," she explained as Nikki began cleaning the blood off of her face and hair.

"Has he attacked people before?" Dean asked her, finally taking a step forward in interest.

"He's killed over a hundred in the past 150 years, only one survivor on record."

"How's he do it?"

"Scalps them. Some bleed to death before they can get help, some have been known to be scared to death."

"So he doesn't mean to kill them?" Sam asked. Alex shrugged.

"That's open to interpretation…" she said. Nikki tapped Alex on the shoulder and pointed to her watch.

"Oh!" Alex said, "he attacks at night, so we're still in danger here," she told them. She looked back at the crashed Honda and frowned. "I don't suppose we can get a ride into town?"

* * *

Dean frowned at the road ahead of them. He didn't like having people he didn't know in his car. He especially didn't like having their stuff in his car.

"So Tall Deer, what's his story?" Sam turned around in his seat to ask Alex, who now sat behind him.

"Why?" she asked. Sam shrugged.

"Maybe we could help," he said. Alex glanced over at Nikki, who made a face telling Alex it was up to her. She sighed and looked back at Sam.

"He was killed in 1853 in a battle with the US... Settlers moving in and all that. His horse too. These woods used to be his village, what he died protecting…" she explained.

"And he still is," Sam finished and she nodded. Dean looked up into the rearview mirror so he could see Nikki sitting behind him.

"Don't you talk?" he asked. Her eyes met his in the mirror.

"Nikki's never spoken, at least…" Alex paused, "not without help."

"Help? What kind of help?" Sam asked. Alex looked to Nikki again, who nodded.

"She's a medium."

"No kidding…" Dean said sarcastically.

"How?" Sam asked, looking at Nikki. Usually people who could communicate in some way with the dead had some incident to cause it. Sam just happened to be interested.

"Let's just say the tunnel was opened for her as a baby," Alex answered for her.

"Is that why you hunt?" he asked. Alex nodded rather sadly, and Sam didn't ask anything more about it. If he started asking about their reasons, they might

* * *

start asking about his.

"No, it's right over here. Yeah, the big one," Alex told Dean as he pulled up in front of a large, rather fancy looking house. Sam and Dean stared up at it almost in a state of awe. The house would have been over the top by Liberace's standards.

"This is where you guys are staying?" Sam asked as the women got out of the car, hauling their stuff out with them.

"Yeah. The guy we're working for is letting us crash at his house," Alex explained slamming her door shut.

"Working for?"

"Hey, whatever you girls do to make money is no business of ours," Dean said putting his hands up. Both women frowned at him.

"He's hired us to get rid of Tall Deer."

"Wait…Wait…" Dean said, closing his eyes so he could concentrate, "you actually found someone to _pay_ you to get this ghost?" he asked in disbelief. Sam was rather impressed, though no one could see him from inside the car.

"Yeah. He's hired a lot of people over the years. Only pays on return, though, so he's never paid anything."

"What kind of money are we talking here?" Dean asked her. Alex looked at him for a moment.

"Twenty thou…" she finally answered. Dean's heart skipped a beat.

"Have I told you how incredibly sexy I think you are?" he asked her. Alex rolled her eyes but Nikki grinned, a little amused.

"Dean you're such an ass," Sam said from inside the car. Dean turned around and gave him a brief glance.

"It's not like I said she owed us," he defended himself. While he did this Nikki nudged Alex in the back slightly. Alex sighed.

"But…" she got the men's attention back, "we do owe you, and… we could, um…"

Nikki nudged her again.

"We might need your help with this…" she mumbled. Dean's smile lit up.

"What split are we talking here?"

"70-30."

"Pfft. Nice knowing you," Dean said placing his hands on the steering wheel and looking forward. Nikki nudged Alex so hard she stumbled slightly.

"Alright! Fine, 60-40. But I'm being generous," she told him. Dean turned to her and smiled.

"That sounds fair," he said, "can we get a place to stay?" he motioned his head to the large house behind them. Sam yawned, but that was coincidental.

"That's up to the boss man, you can ask him," Alex shrugged. She didn't really think they needed help, but the pain in her forehead kept her from thinking straight.

"That's fine. When would be a good time?" Dean asked politely.

"He'll be waiting up for us," Alex told him. Dean popped his door open and got out, Sam followed suit.

"Lead," Dean told Alex. She frowned at him and did so. "I really do think you're sexy, by the way."

"Shut up," she said and Dean grinned. Sam watched as the house got bigger the closer they got to it. He saw a lot more of the details then he could from the street. The thing must have cost a fortune when it was built, he couldn't even guess what it'd be worth now.

"So why's this guy willing to pay so much?" Sam asked once they were on the porch. Alex rang the bell.

"Because it took something from him," Alex replied somberly, ringing the bell again.

"What?" Sam asked.

"His scalp…" Alex answered as the door opened. In front of them stood a man no younger then 70. He was hunched over slightly and dressed in a fancy bathrobe and matching night cap. In his hand was a small plate with a half eaten cookie on it. He looked as though he may have been a pirate in another life.

"Girls! Girls! Come in? How'd it go? Who are they?" he asked ushering them all inside.

"Oh, this is Dean and Sam, they helped us out of a tight spot tonight," Alex explained walking into the living room, already knowing the way. The inside of the house seemed to be in various states of disrepair, various bits where peeling away or rusted through. You could write you name in the layers of dust.

"So, have we got him?" the man asked excitedly. Alex lowered her eyes.

"Almost. If it weren't for that horse we would have…" she tried to reassure him.

"Yes… Yes… That horse," the old man said and fell silent. They all knew he was listening to those hoof beats in his mind.

"Sam and Dean here have offered to help us out. They're expert hunters," Alex told him. Dean liked being called an 'expert,' while Sam wondered if Alex had just lied or not. The man brightened up considerably at this.

"Oh, really? Have you had experience with this sort of thing?" he asked Sam, who he saw to be the older based purely on height.

"Um, yes Sir," Sam said with a strong nod.

"And worse," Dean added.

"Worse? Oh my. Well my boys, you must spend the night here. I trust you've sorted out money details with the girls?" he asked.

"You don't have to worry about that, Mr. Bartel," Alex reassured him. He nodded.

"Good, good. Well then, I'll say goodnight, and, good hunting!" he said with a little giggle. The women smiled back, while Dean and Sam wondered if he was insane. The old man shuffled off to his room upstairs. The fate of his cookie is unknown.

"What's under the cap?" Dean asked Alex, pointing to his own head.

"Scars. Come on, I'll show you guys to a room," she said beginning to walk off.

"Right. Sam, go get our bags," Dean said.

"Like hell I will," Sam replied. Dean just shook his head as if disappointed.

"Hey, if you guys are staying here, what's in the bags?" Dean asked, indicating the two duffle bags they were carrying.

"Nothing," Alex grumbled. Dean was about to let it go when Nikki tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at her and saw she was pulling what looked like a net out of her bag.

"A net!" he exclaimed in surprise. Alex spun around immediately and stared at him. Nikki tried to jam the net back into the bag. Alex quickly turned her glare to Nikki, who took a step back rather intimidated.

"You tried using nets?" Sam asked.

"It was worth trying! Here's your room. Good night!" she told them opening a door and pulling Nikki down the hall with her. Nikki waved at them and both men found themselves waving back.

* * *

"Legends of Tall Deer have been around for nearly a century and a half," the old man said around the breakfast table. Dean was half asleep in his over easy eggs, but Sam was listening rather intently. Alex and Nikki had heard it before, and therefore weren't very interested. The sixth person at the table, Mrs. Bartel, an elegant looking old woman, rolled her eyes and tried to pretend her husband wasn't talking. He had told the story of Tall Deer to so many people she had come to hate the ghost as much as he had.

"He only strikes at night, and it don't matter how many people it is, he'll hunt them down to the last," Mr. Bartel said from underneath his cap.

"Isn't there some sort of barrier to where he'll go? A creek, the forest line, the town line?" Sam asked him. The old man shook his head.

"Story goes he once chased a man straight into town hall, and one clear across the state!" he said, waving a bit of sausage around on his fork.

"Then how'd you survive?" Dean asked, wiping some yolk off his face.

"He caught up to me while I was in earshot of some people. They got me to the hospital right away. It's a miracle, isn't it Maggie?" he said looked down the table at his wife. The woman kept looking blankly at the table between them.

"I said, isn't it, Maggie!" he said a little louder. The woman looked up.

"Yes, yes. A miracle…" she muttered. She hadn't been paying attention, that's just what he always said to her during the story.

"How old were you?" Sam asked him.

"Just twelve. A group of us boys dared each other to spend a night out there. He killed them all but me," Mr. Bartel closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to banish the images still with him.

"That was stupid," Dean told him bluntly. Mr. Bartel nodded.

"Yes. A lesson learned too late, I'm afraid."

"So why do you keep sending people out there to get it?" Dean asked, not really understanding the lesson learned there.

"Because I want it _gone_!" the old man slammed a boney fist onto the table, rattling the silverware slightly. That got everyone's attentions. Sometimes the need for revenge outweighs the safety of other people.

"And you sent two girls?" Dean asked perplexed. Someone kicked him in the shin, but it is not known who.

"These girls have had a better shot then any I've met," Mr. Bartel told him, jabbing his fork in Nikki's direction.

"That's not what we saw," Dean told him, a little too tired to realize he might have been putting eight thousand dollars at risk.

"Well you didn't see what _I_ saw," Mr. Bartel told him.

"And what's that?" Dean asked. As an answer the old man looked down the table at Nikki.

* * *

"Put it there? Thanks Sam," Alex said as Sam placed a chair in the middle of a smaller sized room in the house. Nikki sat in it and Alex walked around behind her with two scarves, "now I'm going to remind you again Mr. Bartel. Any valuables in this room you don't want destroyed you may want to take out."

"They're still removed from last time," he reassured her from where he stood beside Dean and Sam, in front of and away from Nikki. Alex nodded and began to bind her sister's hands and feet to the chair.

"Do you always tie her up?" Sam asked.

"Well yeah, or she'd scalp us all, Sam," Dean told him. Dean was making it more than obvious he thought this whole thing was silly. He had met plenty of 'medium's over the years, and he believed this one as much as he believed the others.

"Actually," Alex shot Dean a death glare, "this is just a precaution. We've only encountered one spirit strong enough to move Nikki's body," she paused, "and it wasn't pretty."

"Better safe then sorry," Mr. Bartel understood. Alex stood in front of her sister and looked down at her.

"Ready?" she asked. Nikki nodded. Alex reached behind her sister's neck and unlatched the necklace chain. She jogged a few steps backward, jewelry in hand, and stood beside Sam.

"Hang on to your hat Mr. Bartel," Alex said softly. For a moment, Nikki just sat there, looking at them.

"Ooh, I'm impressed," Dean said. Sam elbowed him. Then Nikki's head fell. Some strands of her hair came out of the ponytail and whipped about. Dean turned his head to the side and narrowed his eyes to see her lips moving. Suddenly a man's voice filled the room, chanting in a native language. When Nikki's head came up the voice became English.

"It's not yours! It's not yours!" the man's voice came out of her. Her eyes had gone completely black. Mr. Bartel elbowed Dean in an 'I told you so,' sort of way.

"What do you want?" Alex asked. It was impossible to tell, but there was the thought the black eyes had turned to her.

"I want you _gone_!" Nikki's lips moved and the voice said, "away from my home!"

"It's not your home anymore!" Alex told him.

"It will always be my home! The home of my people!"

"Your people have a new home! They don't want this one anymore!"

"Liar! I will not listen to you!" Tall Deer said and apparently meant it, because Nikki's head dropped limp and her hair became once again under gravity's control. Alex rushed over to her and latched the necklace back around her neck. Mr. Bartel sighed as Alex untied her sister.

"And that's our problem," he told Sam and Dean. Sam's face contorted as he thought, while Dean only seemed mildly interested. Alex helped her sister to stand.

"Do you believe us now?" she asked Dean. He shrugged and nodded slightly.

"I guess so. But I don't see what the problem is…"

They all stared at him.

"You see Dean, it _kills_ people…" Sam told him. Dean glared at him briefly.

"I know that. Look, he isn't going to listen to you about his people not wanting this place, right?" he asked. There was a group nod. "So find someone he _will_ listen to."

And the room fell silent.

"You know," Mr. Bartel said, "the boy has a point." Dean nodded proudly.

"I intend to earn that fifty percent," he said.

"What! Fifty! Are you out of your mind?" Alex demanded from him, advancing on him slightly. For some reason Mr. Bartel chuckled.

"I'll let you kids settle that out. You girls let me know of any progress…" he said as he left, closing the door behind him, expecting the 'kids' to argue. Alex sighed and turned to her sister who was sitting back in the chair to rest.

"Did you learn anything knew about him?" she asked. Nikki shook her head.

"What would she learn that we didn't?" Sam asked.

"Oh. Sometimes Nikki sees things. Little snippets of their lives. Usually not anything helpful," Alex shrugged it off.

"Any idea who he might listen to?" Sam asked Nikki. She thought for a moment and then signed something with her hands.

"Just someone from his tribe," Alex translated.

"Well, isn't there a local lodge or whatever?" Dean asked. Both women shook their heads.

"About a year after Tall Deer was killed his tribe was moved down to New Mexico."

"Well maybe he'd listen to us," Dean suggested, "maybe he prefers men to women."

The other three stared at him.

"I didn't mean it like _that_!"

"I'm sure he takes the word of two White men very seriously, having such great experiences with them in the past," Alex said sarcastically. Nikki signed something to add.

"Yeah but that didn't work, did it?" Alex replied to her.

"What she'd say?" Sam asked.

"Just that we were hoping the fact we were Black might warm him up to us, but that didn't work…" she absentmindedly pressed her fingers to her head.

"Maybe there's an Asian dude we can try out," Dean was sarcastic.

"Our best bet is finding a Native American… by _far_ our best bet," Sam wanted to make clear.

"I told you, they've cleared. There might be _one_ in the county, maybe! And the chances of them being a Jicarilla Apache are _nothing_."

"So what do we do?" Dean asked, since she seemed to hate all of their ideas.

"What are the chances of finding his remains?" Sam asked, trying to be a diplomat.

"Less than nothing," Alex said. Sam continued offering suggestions that Alex kept turning down with some reason or another. After a while Dean began to tune them out and turned his attention to Nikki, who was sitting on the chair looking out the window. Dean narrowed his eyes and walked casually beside her. He bent slightly and looked out the window with her.

There was a wind chime blowing in a slight breeze outside. Metal horses clanked against each other in a noisy melody. Dean thought for a moment and turned his attention back to Alex and his brother, who were discussing bellbottoms for some reason.

"Hey," he got their attention, "what about the horse?"

"What about it?"

"Would he listen to the horse?" Dean asked. They had to take a moment to make sure they had heard him correctly.

"You want my sister to channel a horse!" Alex demanded angrily. Dean looked down at Nikki.

"Do you think you could?" he asked. Nikki thought about it for a moment before shrugging. She signed something and her face looked like she'd be willing to give it a try.

"Are you nuts?" Alex asked them honestly.

"Dean, how are we going to get the horse to believe us?" Sam questioned him, feeling a little weird saying such a thing.

"Someone in town _must_ have a horse it can talk to."

* * *

"And eight thousand…" Alex said placing one last bill into Dean's hand. They stood by his car, Dean leaning against the driver's door and rolling the money into his pocket. Sam was already buckled in and couldn't see the grin on his brother's face. Earlier they had found a stable with a friendly horse, and uniquely were able to persuade Tall Deer and his companion that they could leave. It had been quite the experience, and Dean and Sam were going to wait until they left town before they laughed.

"Thank you very much," Dean told her. She glared at him, plotting his death.

"Just take the money and go, and never come near me or my sister again!" Alex yelled and stormed off to argue with a mechanic about the Honda. Dean grinned and got into his car. Just as he was buckling up Nikki leaned on his open window. She gave them both a nice smile and handed Dean an envelope.

"Bye," Sam said as she leaned away and they drove off. Dean flung the envelope at his brother.

"What's it say?"

"'Call us if you ever need us,'" Sam read off the front of the envelope. He opened it and pulled out a card. Hand written on it was 'Nikki and Alex Charles' followed by a cell phone number and an e-mail address. Sam laughed slightly.

"We should keep this," he told Dean, who scoffed.

"I bet her sister doesn't know she gave us that," he said. Sam shrugged, supposing that could be true. He began to look around for a safe place to put it.

"Give me that," Dean said grabbing it from Sam's hand and placing it up in his visor. Sam smiled as they continued driving down the road.

A mile later they were both in laughter.


	3. RawheadandBloodyBones

_**Rawhead-and-Bloody-Bones**_

* * *

It was a kind consideration that Carol Shelley now climbed step by step down the cabin stairs. A highly mature six year old, Carol knew how hard her parents worked and knew they had all come to this cabin to relax for the week. So, waking up in the middle of the night with a thirst only a glass of water could cure, she was carefully making her way from her room to the kitchen. Her feeling of pride at being so grown up about the whole thing disappeared when she felt something wrap tightly around her ankle. 

She screamed.

* * *

"Okay, so, let's assume there was a reason Dad sent us to that specific spot in the mountains," Sam said with his finger pointed at the state of Colorado on the map he was holding in his hands. The Winchesters were making their way north further into Colorado, and had paused to get something to eat. Dean munched on a hamburger as he leaned against the car beside his brother. 

"Because of that vibe."

"Yeah. There must have been a reason, right? He knew it was a hot spot so he sent us there."

"Do you think she'll remember me?" Dean asked, suddenly some place else.

"Who?"

"You know, the girl with the brother, and the wendigo…" Dean told him, obviously trying to think of her name. Sam sighed and shook his head.

"I think there's a chance," he answered. Their encounter didn't seem like something one was likely to forget.

"Anything interesting on the way?" Dean asked, satisfied that he had left an impression.

"Yes!" Sam said excitedly, getting on to topic, "not far from Braddock, Colorado is this cabin. It's on some sort of lake, very big vacation spot. Mostly rich people and their kids."

"And…?"

"Over the past 40 years 17 children have gone missing, all between the ages of four and twelve. Parents put them to bed one night, no sign of them is ever found again," Sam finished.

"That sounds promising," Dean said finishing his lunch and opening the driver's door. Sam hurried around the car and got in.

"Last report is Carol Shelley, age six. She disappeared last Saturday night."

"Okay, okay. Where am I going?" Dean asked as the car took off.

"Braddock, Colorado."

"No, I mean, which way?" Dean asked as they stopped at a crossroad.

"Oh, um, right."

* * *

Almost two hours later the Chevy was parked in front of the Braddock town police station. They were rifling through various ID badges, trying to decide which would be the best to use in this case. 

"How about FBI? That worked with the White Lady," Dean offered.

"Yeah, until you got arrested…" Sam reminded him. Dean nodded and continued looking through them. They were limited to only the departments Sam had a card for.

"Dean…" Sam said. Dean looked over at him and saw Sam looking out the driver side window. Dean's head turned around as there was a tap on the glass. Peering down into the car was a cop.

"Can I help you boys?" he asked.

"Um, yeah…" Dean rolled his window down, "we're here with the…" his arm went back and hit Sam a few times, wanting an ID. Sam gave him one. "Yeah, we're with the," Dean looked down, "wildlife?"

The cop took the ID from him, and Dean used the opportunity to give Sam a dirty look. Sam shrugged. The cop seemed to find the ID sufficient and handed it back to Dean, taking a step back so he could get out of the car.

"You must be here about the Shelley girl," he told him.

"Um, yes! As a matter of fact we are," Dean said a little confused.

"You were expecting us?" Sam asked. The cop nodded in a 'sort of' kind of way.

"Mr. Shelley said he'd call in everybody. I didn't think he meant _everybody_," the cop answered.

"Well the man has his connections. Who are you, exactly?" Sam asked. The cop pointed to his name pin.

"Officer Higgins, but everyone calls me Higgy," he explained. The tall, overweight, barrel-chested man looked nothing like a 'Higgy.'

"Well, Officer, um, Higgy. Can you bring us up to speed?" Dean asked him, trying to say it with as much professionalism as possible.

"Yeah, sure," he made some sort of nasal noise, "I can take you out there now if you got time."

"That would be great," Sam told him. He nodded.

"We can go in my car."

* * *

Throughout his life, Dean had grown a strong dislike for the backseat of a police car. It had something to do with the bars. He tried to use the time to admire the scenic woods he usually paid little attention to while driving. 

Damn it was a lot of green.

"So, who else has Mr. Shelley called?" Sam leaned forward and asked Officer Higgins.

"The FBI was here a couple of days ago. They didn't do anything different then we did."

"You guys have had practice. A lot of kids have gone missing from that cabin, right?" Dean asked. Higgins nodded.

"Closest we can figure, the kids got outside for a breather or a late night swim and drown or get carried off by some animal or another. I guess that's why you boys are here," he said.

"You ever find drag marks around the cabin? Any sign of a struggle?" Sam asked him. Higgins shook his head.

"Not a damn thing."

"Any other people ever go missing from that area? Around the lake maybe?" Dean asked.

"There was one girl a couple of years ago, on the other side of the lake," the cop answered.

"What happened?" Sam asked a little hopeful. Higgins let out a snort of laughter.

"End up she'd just snuck off and eloped with her boyfriend," he answered. Sam frowned and leaned back in his seat.

"We're coming up on the cabin."

* * *

Outwardly there was nothing noteworthy about the cabin. It looked typical and decent, like any other cabin in the woods. There was a small dock leading out into the lake with a dingy tied to the end. It looked peaceful and serene, which is probably why so many people come to stay there. 

"Who owns the cabin?" Sam asked as Higgins walked them up to the front door.

"Wilderness Vacations. It's a company outta Denver. They own a few cabins in the area, mostly around the lake," he jiggled the keys in the lock.

"Any problems at any of those?"

"Not a one. Here we go," he opened the door. Inside the cabin, was a perfectly normal cabin. Nothing looked wrong about it. The decorator seemed to have been trying for the homey, old fashioned cabin sense while still having all of life's modern necessities. There was a large stone fireplace and an air conditioner. A butter churn and a blender. A candle holder and high wattage bulbs. The men entered, Sam and Dean trying to get a feeling of the place. It seemed perfectly normal to them as they investigated.

"Where are the Shelleys now?" Sam asked as Dean ducked under the stairs on the far side of the wall.

"At a hotel in town. With their _lawyers_," Higgins snorted.

"Mr. Shelley is a powerful man," Dean said, nodding his head like he knew anything about it.

"Politicians, what are you gonna do?"

"Is anyone renting the place now?" Sam asked looking up the chimney.

"Some people were supposed to, but they canceled on account of the girl going missing."

"So it's available to rent?" Sam asked him. Dean turned around and looked at him questionably.

"I, uh, I guess so. Why?" Higgins asked. Sam gave Dean a suggestive glance. After a moment Dean nodded, turning back to Higgins.

"Who do we talk to about renting it?"

* * *

An hour later when the Winchesters were alone in the cabin, they headed upstairs to check out what was up there. The same person who decorated the downstairs seemed to have been given the whole house, and the 'this is a cabin' effect was just becoming grotesque. 

"Hey, do you remember that cabin Dad took us to?" Dean asked finding the bathroom.

"Yeah. There was a Sasquatch living near by, right?" Sam asked finding a room with several small beds in it. He walked it, figuring it to be where Carol probably slept.

"Yeah," Dean said following after him, "that was our first. Man, you never forget your first Bigfoot."

"It gave us fleas," Sam pointed out, bending over to look under a bed. Dean let out a laugh.

"Yeah, that was hilarious. We scratched for a week," Dean said opening a closet. Sam looked at him. Apparently they had entirely different feelings about the encounter.

* * *

"Officer Higgins said the Shelleys are staying at a hotel in town, so they shouldn't be too hard to find," Dean said as he drove them back into town. 

"How are we going to get to talk to him? He'll know he didn't call us in."

"I'll tell him we have a friend in common and wink at him. He'll know what I'm talking about."

"Will you?" Sam questioned. Dean glanced at him and shrugged.

"No, but I don't have to," Dean told him. Sam shook his head and sighed.

"What about his lawyers?"

"As far as they know we're there in their client's best interest. Which, you know, we _are_, so that works."

"Okay. You talk to Mr. Shellley I'll talk to his wife," Sam planned out.

"Wait. Why do you get to talk to the wife?"

"Because I don't trust you around women," he explained simply. Dean thought for a moment before realizing Sam was probably right.

* * *

"There was just this, this scream, in the middle of the night. I knew it was Carol, I knew how she sounded when she was scared. She screamed the same way the first time she saw a spider," Mrs. Shelley half laughed as she remembered. Sam sat across from her in the small bedroom. The usually distinguished politician's wife was bright pink in the face and pale everywhere else. She held herself tightly and had large bags under her eyes. Sam couldn't help but sympathize for her. To have a child die was one thing, but to just lose one was worse. She had no idea where her baby was, or what was happening to her. 'Closure' is such a powerful thing to need. 

"Did you hear anything else? Voices? Footsteps? Crying?" Sam asked. She shook her head and wiped a tear off of her face. Sam imagined that she was usually a very beautiful woman.

"No. Just the scream, and… I jumped out of bed and went to her room, because it sounded close, you know?"

"So you think she was inside?"

"Oh, yes. She had been afraid of the woods, especially at night. The boy in the cabin down the way told her stories about monsters and bears."

"Monsters?"

"Yeah, um. Bigfoot, Dracula, aliens, silly things like that."

"Do you remember the boy's name?"

"James Robertson," she sniffled slightly, "his mother is a dentist. Why?"

"Just getting a list of people who talked to your daughter. Did you notice anything different about her room after she was gone? Anything on the floor, the walls… the ceiling?"

She thought for a moment.

"No, no I can't think of anything. It just, it just all looked so normal!" she said and tears fell down her face, collecting at her chin. Sam handed her a tissue and sighed, watching the woman weep. That had been enough for one day.

* * *

"What takes kids and doesn't leave any sign?" Dean as he fiddled with the fireplace. He couldn't even tell if it was wood burning or not. Sam was in the kitchen a few meters away, cooking some eggs he had been surprised to find in the refrigerator. 

"I don't know. You'd expect to find something. Claw marks…blood…"

"Foot prints on the ceiling… Did you talk to that kid with the monster stories?" Dean asked. Sam sighed.

"Yeah. Just some punk trying to scare her. He doesn't know anything."

"And neither do we," Dean added.

"Well, let's just start somewhere. What things take children?" Sam simplified. Dean let out a sigh as a small fire began to form.

"Changelings… But they mostly take babies."

"And leave a replacement."

"Black Annis?"

"Again, mostly babies."

"Well maybe we should check the woods for a trail of bread crumbs," Dean offered sarcastically. Sam glanced at him before filling two dishes with scrambled eggs. He carried them over and handed one to his brother.

"I like my eggs over easy…" Dean complained. Sam smacked him slightly.

* * *

Once night fell on the cabin, Dean and Sam trekked equipment in from the car and started searching the rooms in the darkness. Sam went slowly around with the digital recorder and an instant Polaroid camera. He got a lot of nice pictures of the cabin, but none of them showed anything constructive. Dean went around with his bastardized walkman listening to useless static as he skimmed it over the walls and furniture. While Sam was still moving his cameras around the bathroom Dean headed downstairs. The static in his ears quickened and became louder. He slowly descended the rest of the steps, the static getting busier and busier. 

"Sam! We got something!" he called out once he reached the bottom. His brother came to the top of the stairs.

"What?"

"I dunno. Some activity," Dean said. He walked around to the space beneath the stairs. The static leaped and bounded. Dean moved the receptor all the way to the floor underneath the stairs, and the static peaked. He took his headphones off and looked up at Sam.

"We're going to need some crowbars."

* * *

The wood creaked and a nail flew off as the Winchester brothers plied the first board out of the floor. Sam threw it out into the middle of the room, out of the way. 

"How are we going to explain this, again?" he asked as they got ready for the next one.

"Secret passage for the kidnapper," Dean explained, cramped up under the stairs.

"Oh, good," Sam said as they groaned and cracked another board from the floor. That seemed to be enough space for both of them as their flashlights clicked on and searched the area beneath the floor. It was only a foot or so down, and while neither man knew what they had been expecting, it wasn't this.

"Jesus…" Sam said under his breath. Lying beneath the floorboards were human bones. A few skulls were visible amongst hundreds of various other remains. A few looked freshly picked clean.

They all looked so small.

"I think we found our 17 missing children…" Dean muttered. Sam's light fell onto one skull, so tiny and clean.

"Hello Carol," he greeted solemnly.

"What could have done this?" Dean asked stepping out from under the stairs and over toward the kitchen to get the salt.

"I think they'll believe some wild animal…" Sam couldn't stop looking at the bones.

"Forget what Officer Huggy and the Mary Shelley's might believe. What _is_ it?" Dean asked as Sam stepped back so Dean could circle the hole with salt.

"Nothing salt will stop…" Sam told him sitting down by the couch, finally remembering to turn his flashlight off.

"Hey, don't underestimate the power of salt. I love this stuff," Dean said finishing his circle. He stepped back from the hole, not tuning his back on it.

"Well," Sam sighed, "I think the best way to figure out what this thing is, is to look at _where _it is."

"Colorado?" Dean asked confused.

"Closer," Sam advised. Dean looked at the hole again, narrowing his eyes. He took a step back. Finally he realized and nodded his head.

"Under the stairs…"

"Rawhead-and-Bloody-Bones," Sam said.

"Kid comes downstairs in the middle of the night for whatever reason, gets pulled right through," Dean said and they both stared silently at the hole for a moment.

"Well," Sam sighed, "they're easy enough to kill. A hole between the eyes…"

"Yeah, but they're a bitch to lure out if your balls have dropped," Dean told him. Sam tried to pretend his brother had just said something wise and elegant, instead of crud and disgusting. But, despite Dean's wording, he was right. Rawhead-and-Bloody-Bones only came out for children, and Sam and Dean didn't happen to have one on hand.

"Can we go in after it?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head.

"We'd never find it…" he chewed slightly on his lower lip, thinking.

"So what do we do?"

Dean held up his hand, the one still holding onto the cylinder of salt. He smiled at his brother.

"We pour salt on the wound…"

* * *

"Are you ready?" Dean asked as he cut off the top of the salt container in the kitchen. Sam readied two rifles, waiting to give one to Dean. 

"I'm ready when you are," Sam replied. Dean finished cutting the top off; making a minor mess and using some minor swear words. The two carefully approached the hole they had made in the floor. It almost seemed to be waiting for them.

"Okay. Here we go…" Dean held his breath and flung the open cylinder into the hole. Sam quickly handed off the rifle and both took aim, waiting for the creature to come out. Such a time went by that Sam questioned if the salt would even work. Before he could ask, however, four long, clawed fingers took hold of the floor. The fingers were pale and boney, and the claws were covered in blood that couldn't come off.

"Ready…"

Another grotesque set of fingers appeared on the floor.

"Aim…"

Soon shoulders lifted up into view. A dangling, great teethed head followed after it, red eyes glaring from under a mess of tangled dark hair.

"Fire!"

Both brothers shot at the creature. A roar erupted from it like a great wounded tiger. It tried to struggle out of the hole, reaching its giant, long arms to grab them. Both brothers shot again and Rawhead-and-Bloody-Bones fell limp with a loud thud. Dean shot it in the head again, just in case. The cabin fell quiet as the men held their breath, waiting for the surprise attack. It never came.

That night the Winchester brothers had a bonfire.

* * *

Dean sat behind the steering wheel of his classic Chevy parked in front of the Braddock police station. Sam had spent the entire morning coming up with a plausible story to tell, and was now inside explaining their phony findings. Something about a wolf, Dean didn't really pay attention, which is why he was out in the car. After a long while, it seemed, Sam finally reappeared out of the building and headed for the car. He didn't look pleased, but he didn't look disappointed, either. Dean waited until Sam was in the car and had his seatbelt buckled. 

"How'd it go?" he asked. Sam seemed mildly distracted, but heard him.

"Huh? Oh, it went fine. They believed me. No problem," he said. Dean nodded in approval and backed out of the car park.

"So are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Dean asked casually as he steered the car forward.

"What do you mean?"

"You seem kind of, out of it," Dean explained. Sam thought for a moment, wondering what might give his brother that impression.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just, they were kids…" Sam explained. Dean frowned slightly and nodded.

"Yeah, they were…"


	4. Gilbert Eliott

_**Gilbert Eliott**_

* * *

"Tie him down! Tie him down! Hurry!" an orderly yelled, pressing himself against the young man, trying to pin him against the bed. The man thrashed his legs and arms, struggling to get loose.

"You can't get me! I won't let you get me! Get out of my head!" the man screamed. A few more orderlies ran into the room followed by a nurse carrying a rather impressive needle.

"Gilbert calm down! Calm down!" the nurse yelled as the orderlies tried to tie his feet and wrists.

"No!" he roared as he ripped his arms up into the air. The orderly on top of him went flying into the wall. The nurse screamed as Gilbert, by no means known for his physical prowess, flung the other orderlies out of his way. She stepped between him and the door, only to be flung away too. The needle hit the floor and shattered.

Gilbert Eliott was gone.

* * *

It was night as the Winchesters drove along. Dean was trying to listen to his music but found himself concentrating more on the beeping noises Sam's laptop would make, and the clicking of the keys as his brother typed. Dean glanced at the screen and recognized some sort of instant messaging program on the glowing screen.

"Who are you chatting with?" Dean asked, turning the music down slightly. Sam looked surprised to see he wasn't alone.

"Oh! Nikki Charles. You remember her and her sis-"

"Yeah I remember. Since when have you been chatting with her?" Dean asked, almost accusingly.

"For about a week or so. She's kind of funny," Sam told him. Dean scoffed.

"Nothing can be funnier than her channeling that horse. Remember her neighing like that?" Dean asked and laughed slightly at the memory.

"I'm going to tell her you're laughing at her," Sam said and began typing.

"Don't do that!" Dean asked and tried to reach for the laptop with one hand. Sam maneuvered it away from him and hit the 'return' key. They paused.

"What's she say?" Dean asked anxiously.

"Give her a moment to type," Sam said. A second later the laptop beeped. Sam read her reply and laughed slightly.

"What? What did she say?" Dean asked, trying to watch both his brother and the road.

"She says she might have sounded like a horse, but you sound like an ass," Sam answered. Dean frowned and concentrated on the road ahead.

"Where are they?" he changed topics.

"California somewhere," Sam had already learned.

"Are they- _whoa_!" Dean yelled as the car swerved to miss something that had run across the road in front of them. The laptop slid off of Sam's lap to the floor as the car halted to a stop. The brothers watched as the large, white figure that had passed in front of them leapt over the tall metal fencing that separated the forest from the road. It didn't even touch it.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked as Sam picked his computer up.

"I don't know. A deer, maybe?"

"A deer jump a fence like that?" Dean questioned. Sam shrugged, frowning at the blank computer screen. Dean shook his head and continued down the road. A mile later they read a sign as they passed by.

'Insane Asylum. Don't Pick Up Hitchhikers.'

The brothers gave each other a worried look.

* * *

Early in the morning, only a few hours before dawn, Dean and Sam stopped at a small motel and got a room. Sam walked out of the bathroom with a minty fresh smile and stopped abruptly. Hanging above his bed was a dream catcher.

"What's that?" he asked Dean, who was already well bundled in his own bed.

"A dream catcher."

"I know that. What's it doing there?" Sam walked over to his bed to look at it closer. It almost looked hand-made.

"I thought it might help you with your nightmares," Dean replied. Sam glanced over at the back of his brother's head. He then looked back at the oddly thoughtful gift. He shrugged and got into bed, figuring it was worth a try.

* * *

Shortly before noon Dean awoke. He yawned, scratched himself, and sat up. He looked over to the bed next to him and saw Sam asleep. He didn't seem to be having a nightmare; in fact, Sam didn't seem to be dreaming at all. Dean had had an interesting dream involving Marilyn Monroe and a talking monkey. He stood up, stretched quietly and headed for the bathroom. Once he was done there he lumbered over to his duffel bag under the window for a 'clean' change of clothes.

"What are you talking about?" he heard a woman's voice yell as he rummaged through the bag. A man's voice replied to her but too quietly for Dean to hear.

"You can't do that! I came all this way to find him!" the woman continued arguing. It sounded like they were in the parking lot. Dean pulled out a pair of jeans and opened the curtain slightly to get a glimpse of the new day. The new day hurt his eyes.

"Then I'll look without you!" the woman yelled. Dean squinted and saw the two people in the parking lot. One was a police officer of some sort, while the other was a chunky blonde haired woman in her mid-20s. She looked rather upset.

"Hey…" Sam groaned from his bed. Dean turned around to find the stream of light going right over his brother's eyes, Sam raising a hand to shield it. Wordlessly Dean closed the curtain.

"Hey. How'd you sleep?" he asked. Sam yawned and stretched his long legs.

"I don't think I dreamt at all," he thought about it. Dean shrugged.

"Better that then nightmares," he offered. Sam nodded in agreement. He knew he had slept, but for some reason he didn't feel it.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"About a quarter to noon," Dean answered as he got dressed, "I'll go get us something to eat; you take your time getting up."

In response Sam nodded and slumped back into his pillows. Dean smiled slightly and left the room.

* * *

The argument in the parking lot had ended and Dean couldn't see any sign of law enforcement around. The woman had settled down and was sitting at the bottom of a tree out of the sun. As Dean headed to pass her by he noticed the sad look on her face as she stared down at something in her hands. It looked like a photograph. Remembering that he was out to get food and not to flirt, he passed her by without a word.

* * *

Sam leaned against the shower wall as the lukewarm water rushed down him. This used to invigorate him, get him all ready for a brand new day. It didn't do that anymore. Nothing did that anymore. He heard the door to the hotel room open and close and Dean announced he was back. With a sigh Sam ran a hand through his hair, lifting it off of his face. He turned the water off, got out of the shower, dried himself and dressed. When he opened the bathroom door the smell of motel shampoo met with strong, black coffee.

"It always amazes me the places you can find a McDonald's," Dean told him pulling food out of a paper bag.

"Yeah. That and the Bermuda Triangle have always baffled me," Sam said as he sat down at the small table. His knees touched the underside of it.

"Hey, check this out," Dean ignored the sarcasm as he placed today's issue of the local paper in front of Sam. The headline read 'Man Escapes Asylum.' Sam popped open his Styrofoam plate.

"So?" he asked. No one ever looked so glumly at pancakes.

"It says he flung four orderlies and a nurse 11 feet across the room," Dean told him, taking a small bite out of a hot hash brown.

"Papers exaggerate."

"I'm thinking this is what ran in front of us last night," Dean explained, pointing to the picture of the round young man.

"A mental patient?"

"Why not? Maybe he hears voices…" Dean said suggestively. Sam thought for a moment, chewing.

"Okay, so, what are we dealing with?" he finally asked. Dean shrugged.

"It could be anything from a werewolf to demonic possession."

"The full moon isn't for another week and a half."

"Demonic possession, then?"

"What about all of the stuff in between?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged. Sam sighed and finished off his pancakes.

"So first things first, we have to find him."

"Half the police in the state are looking for him. How are we supposed to find him?" Sam asked. At that question Dean smiled.

"I think I know someone who can help us."

* * *

Across from the motel was a small park that was probably the center of the town's attractions on the fourth of July. For now, however, it contained two children playing lazily on the jungle gym, their watchful mother, and Alice Eliott. Alice sat on one of the park's older wooden benches, glumly watching the children at play. It was past lunch time and she was hungry, but she really didn't care. She was lost in her own mind before she smelled maple syrup, and noticed two tall shadows spreading out in front of her. She turned around and looked up at the Winchester brothers, shielding her eyes from the sun.

"Do you know this guy?" Dean asked, pointing to the picture of Gilbert Eliott in the newspaper.

"Who are you?"

"That depends, do you know him?" Sam asked. She looked at them for a moment, seeing mostly shadows.

"He's my brother, now who the hell are you?" she asked again. Dean smiled.

"We're from the Department of Mental Health. We're here to help find him," he lied. At that she stood up and looked at them again, closer this time.

"Prove it," she doubted them. They both took out IDs and showed them to her. She looked each other thoroughly before handing them back.

"That's a bad picture of you," she told Dean, "it makes you look like a transvestite."

Sam coughed into his hand to stop from laughing and to cover up a grin. Dean just frowned down at the photograph.

"I'm Alice Eliott. What do you want from me?" she asked them.

"We've been told you might know where he is," Dean answered.

"How would I know that?"

"You're his sister," Sam answered simply. She looked at him for a moment before looking at the ground.

"No one else has asked for my help…"

"Well we're asking," Dean said taking a step closer to her. She was a little chubbier then he usually went for, particularly in the rear, but Dean was open-minded if nothing else. She looked a little nervous at his advance, but didn't retreat.

"I haven't seen him a lot since our mother died. He was too much for me to handle, so I had him institutionalized and moved to Seattle," she confessed sadly, "it's not like I abandoned him or anything. I send him a letter every week, presents on his birthday; I even try and come down for Christmas."

"When's the last time you heard from him?" Sam asked.

"He sent me a note two months ago; it didn't make any sense, though. Nothing I could understand."

"Do you still have it?" Sam asked her. She nodded and reached into her coat pocket. She handed him the note. As Sam read Dean turned back to her.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked. The question took her by surprise.

"You don't know?" she wondered. Dean's mouth fell open a crack as he tried to think quickly.

"Everyone has a different way of explaining it," he hoped. It seemed to work for her.

"Gilbert's schizophrenic… He's harmless," she added quickly when she saw the look on Sam and Dean's faces, "he just hears things, and doesn't understand a whole lot, and has some fits. He'd never hurt anyone, not a single soul!"

"He flung five people across the room…" Sam said, handing her back the note. He and Dean shared a glance saying they'd discuss the note later.

"Then they did something to him there. Gilbert wouldn't do that, he _couldn_'_t_ do that," she almost pleaded with them. Dean held up his hands to calm her.

"It's okay, we believe you. But it's all the more reason we need to find him," he explained. Alice took a deep breath and sighed.

"Do you have any idea where he might go?" Sam asked gently. She shook her head.

"He doesn't know this place, even if he did he wouldn't…" she paused, "um, he, he likes trains. There's a train yard just outside of town, to the east. I tried to go look around there for him, but they caught me. I almost got arrested for trespassing."

Dean nodded to show he was listening.

"Where are you staying?" he asked. She pointed behind them.

"At the motel, room 112."

"Okay. Here's our phone number," Sam handed her a piece of paper, "call us if you think of anything else."

She took the paper and nodded.

"Yeah, thanks," she said. Dean smiled at her reassuringly.

"We'll let you know when we find him," he said. She smiled slightly and they walked away.

* * *

"A lot of the note didn't make any sense," Sam explained once they were back in their room, "a lot of chicken scratch mostly. It seems like halfway through he just stopped writing."

"Anything useful?" Dean said trying to get Sam's laptop to work. Dean wasn't the most computer literate of guys, but he gave it a good smack and it started right up.

"Just one thing," Sam paused to make sure he had his brother's attention, "Gilbert wrote, 'he has black eyes,' several times throughout it."

Dean turned around to look at him.

"Are we seriously thinking demonic possession?" he asked, almost not believing it. Sam shrugged.

"I think it's a definite possibility," he admitted. Dean looked a little amused by that. The computer beeped so Dean turned back around to deal with it. Sam, needing something to do beside sit there, picked up the newspaper article again. This time he read all of it, instead of just the headline.

"Hey, did you read all of this?" he asked.

"Most of it. Why?"

"It says here that one of the orderlies Gilbert tossed lost his memories of everything he did after leaving his house that morning. They call it amnesia."

"But we call it demonic possession…" Dean said from the computer screen, "look, here. It says that two years ago the asylum became the home of Earl Calder, a man who killed 13 people before being captured and diagnosed a psychopath. He has denied his innocence ever since," Dean read on a bit, "there have been four murders _in_ the hospital since. Mostly the work of orderly David Lesley, who was caught one month ago, and claims he's innocent."

"So a demon comes in with Calder, and has continued killing within the hospital?"

"I wonder if Lesley is the 'he' Gilbert was writing about," Dean suggested and they both thought about it.

"Why a mental asylum, though?"

"People expect crazy people to kill each other. It's the perfect cover," Dean explained. Sam frowned slightly. There were many things about that statement that were discouraging.

"So now he's on the loose as a schizophrenic…" Sam said. Dean nodded.

"Do you suppose we should check out the train yard?"

"He _was_ heading east when we saw him…"

"Good. We'll go tonight, I'll get my wire cutters," Dean said in a way that wouldn't surprise Sam if Dean had gotten his initials engraved on the tool.

* * *

It was nearly midnight as the Winchester brothers made their way silently around the train cars in the yard. Flashlights were too risky so they had to move by the orange lights that created plenty of shadows to hide in. Every now and again they'd hear the crunching of gravel under a security guard's feet and fall very still in the darkness.

"I've been weighing the pros and cons about being here," Sam whispered.

"You're doing that _now_?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

"The chance of him being here is very low, but the chance of us be arres-"

"Shh!" Dean commanded. Both men stopped in their tracks. They could hear the faint sound of gravel crunching and see a wandering beam of light on the ground. Both were coming closer. Dean frowned and swore silently. He had been hoping they wouldn't have to hit anybody tonight. Just as the foot steps were approaching them from around the corner, Dean raised his bunched hands, reading to attack. Finally the person came into the view and in a brief moment Dean stopped and the person screamed, seeing the fists about to strike.

It was Alice Eliott, of course.

"Shh! Shh!" Sam told her, putting a finger to his lips. Alice placed her hand to her chest and tried to control her breathing. She looked shocked to see them.

"What are-!" she stopped and changed into a whisper, "what are you two doing here?"

"Us?" Dean asked bending down to pick up her dropped flashlight and giving it back to her, "what are _you_ doing here?"

"What do you think?" she ripped the light from his hands.

"You can get into trouble for being here," Sam reminded her.

"So could the two of you," she said back. In response Dean pulled out his ID card. She scoffed.

"You'd get into even more trouble for impersonating government officials," she told them. There was a moment of silence.

"What are you talking about?" Dean tried to sound hurt at the accusation.

"Oh please, you don't think I bought that, did you?" she rolled her eyes.

"Well what was wrong with it?" Dean actually wanted to know. She sighed.

"For one, your collar is up in the back," she told Dean, whose hand instantly went to see if she was right, she was. "Government people never walk around with their collar up in the back."

Dean frowned. That hardly seemed sufficient evidence.

"And…?

"And his ID card has him born in 1949," she pointed to Sam. That took both brothers by surprise, and Sam pulled out his card to see if it was true. He hit Dean in the arm rather hard.

"Ow! What, I put your picture over Dad's, I didn't think about the freaking _birthday_," Dean defended himself.

"So, what is it you guys _really_ want?" she demanded. As a rather bizarre response, Dean grabbed her by the mouth and stomach and held her silent against him.

"Sh," he told her. A moment later a security guard walked right past them. Once he was out of sight Alice elbowed Dean in the stomach and freed herself. Dean held his stomach and mumbled something at her, what exactly only he knew.

"Come on, let's get out of here…" Sam suggested.

* * *

While Dean had suggested taking Alice back to their hotel room, she and Sam had decided it was a far better idea to get a booth in a secluded section of the only 24 hour restaurant in town, Denny's. The men ordered coffee while Alice got a glass of grapefruit juice. Dean made a disgusted face as she took a sip.

"How can you drink that stuff?" he asked her. She just gave him a dirty look.

"So what do you guys want? And don't lie to me again," she demanded. Sam and Dean looked at each other and figured it'd be best for Sam to tell her.

"We think there's something wrong with your brother…" he confessed. She looked at him for a moment.

"No _kidding_…"

"He means, _besides_ the whole, being crazy, thing," Dean explained. Sam sighed.

"We think he may be possessed by a demonic spirit," Sam just came out and told her.

"Possessed?" she wanted to clarify. They nodded in unison. She leaned back in her booth seat.

"You guys are friends of my brother's, aren't you? Roommates, or something?"

"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but we're telling the truth. We think a demon has been moving around the asylum killing people."

"Think about it. You said so yourself your brother wouldn't hurt anything, and look what he's done."

"He's _schizophrenic_!" she reminded them.

"It's the perfect cover!"

"Okay, motive aside. Could your brother even fling people around like that if he tried? Does he have that much strength?" Sam asked her. Alice thought for a moment and closed her eyes.

"No…" she admitted.

"For right now, all we want to do is help you find him. Once that happens, we'll say a few words and it'll be alright," Dean told her. She looked at him.

"You won't hurt him?"

"Only if he fights back," Dean said. Sam kicked him under the table. Dean closed his eyes but didn't flinch from the pain. "No, we won't hurt him."

"The exorcism might be _uncomfortable_, but it won't hurt," Sam reassured. She hung her head in her hand.

"Exorcism… Jesus Christ what am I getting myself into…?" she asked herself.

"We need to know where he might go. You really need to think for us," Sam told her.

"You're the demonologists, you tell me! If this thing's inside Gilbert like you say what do I matter?" she asked. Both Dean and Sam liked being called a demonologist, it made them feel important.

"Okay, well, he'd probably want to-" Sam started but stopped when Alice abruptly stood.

"I don't believe I'm even talking about this. You two are insane. I won't report you to the police but leave me the hell alone," she said and left.

"But…" Dean muttered and she left the restaurant. Sam shook his head and sighed.

"I guess we're on our own," he said. Dean frowned.

"And we have a grapefruit juice to pay for…"

* * *

Late the next morning Sam and Dean did the only thing they could think of. They got in the car and drove around town. It was boring and bound to be fruitless, but neither of them could think of anything better to do. They had no leads and no idea. The best they could figure was the demon would want to stay around town where there'd be people for it to attack.

"This is mind-numbing…" Sam said, his arm getting tired from holding Dean's transformed walkman out the window.

"Well just bare with it. We'll pick up something eventually," Dean reassured him. Almost as if on cue the static jumped in Sam's ears. He almost didn't believe it.

* * *

At the same time, Alice suddenly believed she had the best luck in the entire universe. Instead of using this power to win the lottery, however, she passed by an alley way in her car just in time to see her light haired brother enter it. Impatiently she waited for traffic to clear before she turned into the alley. She drove down it slowly, her head twisting in every direction looking for him. She knew she had just seen him, she _knew_ it. But where the hell did he go? Suddenly something flew down and landed on the top of her car. She screamed and opened her door, crawling out form under the crushed metal top. She ran against the wall and turned around to see what had landed on her.

"Oh my god…" she said under her breath. Standing on top of her car was Gilbert, his eyes a great, dark black. He grinned down at her, but it was not a pleasant grin.

"Gilbert!" she yelled. He leaped off of her car and landed not far in front of her. She took a step toward him and tried to reach out for him, but he only grabbed her by the front of the shirt and flung her around into her car. She fell down to her knees just as he grabbed her and flung her into a brick wall. Crumbling to the ground she hurt so much she could move, she couldn't think. Throwing her once more into the wall he dragged her over and tossed her in the trunk of her own car. As she laid there, now unconscious, he grinned down at her. He closed the trunk lid and looked up to see a black Chevy racing down the alleyway toward him. He chuckled slightly as the car screeched to a halt and Dean ran toward him aiming the gun from the glove compartment at him. Sam was busy trying to walk and flip through the pages of their father's journal at the same time.

"Don't move! Don't move!" Dean yelled as he came closer to the possessed man.

"What are you going to do? Shoot me? You'll only be killing this body, this innocent person," the demon said.

"This is a water gun; it's got holy water inside!" Dean bluffed.

"Like Hell!" the demon said and ran toward him. Dean took a step back as Sam began to read in Latin. Gilbert screamed but was still able to grab Dean's gun and shove Dean into the wall away from it. The demon, trying to control the pain from Sam's words, aimed the gun at Dean. Sam stopped reading instantly.

"What are you doing? Read!" Dean yelled at him.

"Read and he dies," the demon warned, breathing heavily. Sam looked from one to the other, both daring him to read on. He looked down at the book then back at Dean.

He couldn't… He couldn't stand it if he…

Suddenly a loud scream erupted from the trunk of Alice's car as she woke up. She had always been claustrophobic. Dean used the distraction to shove the demon's gun hand upward, away from anyone. As they struggled Sam kept reading, almost yelling to be heard over the battle and Alice's continued screaming and sobbing. Soon Gilbert's body fell limp to the ground and a black mist appeared above them. Thinking quickly the demon mist headed down toward Sam who ducked it and kept reading.

A surge of electricity shot through the cables along the buildings on either side of the alleyway and blew out a lamp not far from them.

The demon was gone.

The brothers took a moment to catch their breath and make sure they were both okay. Dean then rushed to the trunk and opened it. Alice jumped up and Dean caught her before she fell over to the ground. She grabbed his upturned collar and just began crying into his shoulder. Comforting wasn't something he had ever been really good at, so he tried just patting her on the back. Sam walked over to Gilbert who lay unconscious on the ground. He checked for a pulse and nodded up at Dean, smiling slightly.

* * *

The next day Sam and Dean stood in the motel parking lot, looking out at the park across the street. Alice and Gilbert were sitting at one of the benches. She was trying to read something to him but he was too busy watching a nearby squirrel. They both seemed happy and glad to be together. It was a rather sweet scene, even though Alice was covered in several bandages. After a moment the Winchester brothers turned away from them and got in the car.

"So what next?" Dean asked as he pulled out of the lot.

"I don't know about you," Sam sighed, "but I'm tired."

Sam bent over and grabbed the dream catcher off of the floor beneath his feet. He hung it on the rearview mirror and turned on his side away from his brother. Dean watched him and smiled as they drove out of town.


	5. The Beast: part 1

_**The Beast: part 1**_

* * *

"She's over there! After her! After her!" he man yelled to his comrades as they all ran as quickly as they could through the wooded area. His leather coat tore on a low tree branch as he chased after the orange glowing figure of a woman. He gripped his rifle tighter as he charged uphill, avoiding boulders and turned up tree roots.

"She's heading into the mountains! Don't let her get away!" he yelled. If he took the time to listen, he would have heard a soft sobbing coming from the glowing woman.

* * *

Dean smiled down at the newspaper in his hands. Sitting on a hotel bed with a bottle of beer on the table next to him, Dean glanced from the paper to Sam, who was typing on his laptop at a table in front of him.

"She's getting married," Dean said.

"Who?" Sam didn't turn his attention from the screen.

"Haley. The announcement's in the paper," Dean explained. He would have shown Sam the picture of the happy couple, but Sam was too far away to have seen it.

"Oh, good for her," Sam muttered. His computer beeped and after moment Sam turned to Dean, smiling.

"She's agreed to do it," he as glad to report. He signed off on his computer and closed it. Dean shrugged, not sure if he was glad about the news.

"What'd you tell them?"

"Just that there a ghost we needed to talk to. And…" Sam paused. Dean narrowed his eyes.

"And what…?"

"And I only told Nikki, Alex doesn't know…" Sam confessed. Dean sighed.

"Alex doesn't know why she's driving to Colorado?"

"Nikki thought it'd be better as a surprise," Sam tried to explain nicely. Dean took a long sip of his beer. Now he was sure he didn't like the news. Asking the Charles sisters for help seemed bad enough to him, but not telling Alex about it seemed like aggressive suicide. But it was done, and it might help them catch this thing.

"What's their ETA?" he asked.

"Nikki thinks they should be here sometime tomorrow morning. Now…" Sam paused, "you're going to be nice to them, right?"

"Why would you think I'd be anything but?"

"Because last time, you accused them of sleeping with a 70 year old man for money…" Sam explained. Dean remembered that.

"Alright, I'll be nice."

* * *

Dean was dreaming he was being hunted down by angels on stilts when he woke up and realized it was someone banging on the hotel door. He moaned and told Sam to get it. Sam just moaned back and hid his head under the pillows. Now Dean groaned and sat up as the knocking continued.

"If it's anyone but Pamela Anderson in a bikini I'm going to kill them," he grumbled as he trudged over to the door. He opened it and the first thing he saw was the morning sun in his eyes. He raised his hands to block it.

"You have a lot of balls," he heard a familiar voice say.

"Pamela?" he asked sleepily. He looked down and saw Alex and Nikki standing in the doorway. Nikki smiled and waved slightly, while Alex seemed filled with piss and vinegar.

"Oh, it's you…" Dean said.

"Yeah, it's _us_," Alex stormed past him into the room. He was too tired to fight her, but not too tired to accept the bag of doughnuts Nikki handed him.

"You know you have a lot of nerve asking us here!" Alex continued, "and getting Nikki to lie for you is even worse!" she lectured. By now she was standing in front of Sam's bed, who had sat up and was looking at her from under his mess of hair. She looked surprised to see him like that.

"Did we wake you guys up?" she asked, now realizing Dean was only in a t-shirt and boxers.

"No, we were just going to have dinner with the mayor…" Dean was sarcastic as he closed the door and peaked into the doughnut bag.

"Are these cream filled?" he asked Nikki. She signed something but he didn't understand.

"You told her it was us?" Sam asked Nikki sleepily.

"I saw your car out front! Now what's the big idea?" she demanded from them. Neither man would admit it, but right now they were each a little scared of her.

"We need your help," Sam was growing increasingly more awake. Alex looked down at him questioningly.

"What for?"

"We're hunting something and the trail has gone flat. We were hoping Nikki might be able to pick it up for us," Sam explained swinging his legs onto the floor.

"A ghost?" Alex asked. Sam looked over at Dean, who was chewing on a doughnut.

"Oh, uh, yeah, a ghost," Dean reassured Alex. She didn't really believe him, but the look on Nikki's face told her she really didn't have a choice. She sighed and slumped down into the chair in front of Sam's laptop, which she noted briefly.

"Do we have to do it right away? We've been up driving all night," Alex told them.

"You can get a couple of hours," Sam said. Alex sighed in relief and Nikki relaxed visibly. Wordlessly both women stepped out of their shoes, dropped their coats and crawled into Dean's empty bed.

"Hey wait a minute! That's my be-" Dean began to protest but stopped once he realized there were two girls in his bed… A silly little grin fell over his face and Sam glared at him in a chastising way.

* * *

The men took turns changing in the bathroom and went out for a real breakfast. They also went out so they could decide what it was they were actually going to do here.

"I think it's pretty simple," Dean started, winking at the red head who poured their coffee, "take Nikki up to that spot, let her do her thing, and see what this beast has to say."

"Isn't that rather dangerous?" Sam questioned, pouring some sugar into his coffee.

"Why? The wendigo? We killed it. There hasn't been a single 'bear' attack since we left," Dean drunk his coffee black.

"And what if this thing isn't a spirit, huh? What if it's some creature and we're handing Nikki over to it on a silver plate?"

"Then Alex will put our heads on spikes," Dean said as if he had was telling Sam there was a fly on his shoulder.

"And you're fine with that?" Sam stirred his coffee, waiting for it to cool down a little.

"No. But what else is there to do?" he asked. Sam shook his head and sighed. He hated it when Dean was right. There was just something so depressing about it.

"I just don't see how we're going to walk them an hour into the woods without telling them…"

"Telling them what?"

"About Mom, and Jessica… About what this thing has done to our lives…" Sam explained. They were both silent for a moment, thinking about how that conversation might go.

"They have as much right to know about all that as we have to knowing about their stuff," Dean tried to make it sound fair. Sam shrugged and looked down into his coffee. He didn't actually feel like drinking it now.

"I know, but, I'm kind of curious about their stuff…"

"Yeah me too. But," Dean took out his wallet to pay the bill, "not today."

Sam agreed and dropped the empty sugar packet into his coffee mug.

* * *

In return for the doughnuts, Sam and Dean brought back some sandwiches when they returned to the hotel room in the early afternoon. Nikki was sitting at the edge of Sam's bed watching TV and waved to them as they entered. Alex was obviously using the shower.

"We brought lunch," Sam showed Nikki the bag as she turned off the television. The shower stopped and after a few moments the door opened. Alex peeked her head out, holding an off white towel to cover herself.

"I'll be right out," she told them and disappeared again. Sam gave her a nod while Dean had another silly grin. Nikki walked over to investigate the lunch bag and had chosen the egg salad for herself and a ham with Swiss for Alex. Sam and Dean fought over the bologna and tuna fish. Alex reemerged fully clothed with a towel on her head and gladly took the sandwich from her sister.

"So tell us about this ghost," she said unwrapping it.

"What do you need to know?" Dean asked wiping mayonnaise off the side of his mouth. Alex shrugged.

"Has it killed anyone?" she asked. The brothers glanced briefly at each other.

"Yeah…" Dean answered cautiously. Alex narrowed her eyes at them.

"How long have you guys been after it?"

"Awhile…" Dean answered again. Alex watched them as she chewed and swallowed, waiting for one of them to mess something up.

"It must be important, for you to ask us for help..." she paused, still watching them, "who'd it take?"

"A bunch people…"

"No, I mean, _who_?" she supposedly clarified. Dean and Sam went quiet.

"You don't need to know that," Sam finally had the nerve to say. Alex stared back at him, but finally shrugged.

"Fair enough…" she said and continued eating. The tension was broken by a glob of egg salad falling into Nikki's lap.

* * *

"I will never understand this fascination you White people have with hiking," Alex complained as she stopped walking and bent over to catch her breath. Nikki stopped and huffed next to her, while Sam and Dean were a few meters ahead of them, leading the way.

"Will you just come on?" Dean complained down to them. They had been hiking for almost 45 minutes, and the Charles sisters were obviously not skilled at it. Already Nikki had one wet pant leg from falling into a creek.

"I just want someone to explain it to me! What is the damn _point_?" Alex asked, beginning to trudge forward. If Nikki could talk, she would have apologized for her sister's behavior and explained Alex was always like this when her feet hurt. But, since Nikki was mute, Dean and Sam went on being annoyed, the former giving serious thought to tying Alex to a tree and leaving her there.

"We're almost there, it's just a little further," Sam tried to reassure them. Alex grumbled but kept moving. She felt better when Nikki wrapped her arm in hers and they went along together.

* * *

At a small clearing toward the top of a small hill Sam stopped walking and checked his GPA device. He sighed and turned around to watch Dean join him, and to look out at the scenic view.

"This it?" Dean asked. He took a step forward and stopped. "Yeah, this is it…"

There was a deathly calm that chilled their very bones.

"How far behind are they?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged.

"Not far…" he answered. As soon as he closed his mouth Alex's voice could be heard carried up the mountain. She was still complaining.

"Damn that girl likes to talk," Dean practically snorted. Sam found that slightly amusing, so he chuckled a little.

"One talks too much, and the other…"

"Not at all… Yeah, it's hilarious," Dean rolled his eyes.

"Oh thank God!" Alex cried out as the sisters reached them. "Free at last! Free at last!" she said as she fell into a sitting position on the ground. Nikki would have joined her, but she was looking around, obviously feeling rather uncomfortable.

"Can you feel it?" Sam asked her. She looked at him, frowning slightly. She nodded and signed something.

"What is it?" Alex breathlessly translated.

"We were hoping you could tell us," Dean answered. Nikki looked around again and hugged herself tightly.

"What's what?" Alex wondered.

"Nothing," Sam told her. She didn't believe him, but for the first time since they set out she didn't feel like talking.

"Any time you're ready," Dean told Nikki, obviously hoping she'd be ready soon. Nikki thought for a little while, obviously having some second thoughts about this. Finally she sighed and nodded at them.

"You're sure this is the ghost's territory?" Alex asked them more than seriously.

"Yeah, we're sure," Sam reassured her. She looked up at her sister and shrugged.

"Where do you want her?"

* * *

They cleared a spot in the tall grass and but down a blanket for Nikki to sit on. Sam and Dean stood not far in front of her and watched as Alex bound her sister's wrists and ankles. They were both wondering if this really was a good idea, but in their own minds they knew they didn't really have any other choice. If they were going to get this thing, this was how it would have to be done.

"Finished," Alex said standing up, "ready?" she asked her sister. Nikki nodded affirmatively. Alex looked back at the brothers for a moment, hoping they might change their minds. They didn't, so she reached down and unclasped Nikki's necklace. She joined Dean and Sam's side and together they waited.

After a few moments of nothing, Nikki's head went back. Alex's eyes narrowed in concern, as her sister's head usually fell forward first. Suddenly Nikki's shoulders fell backward onto the ground and her mouth opened wide. The sound of a hundred crows came out of her.

"What the hell!" Alex cried out, taking a step forward toward her sister. A great force flew out of Nikki's body, pushing Alex off her feet and nearly knocking Dean and Sam over as well.

"Nikki!" Alex yelled from the ground as her sister's body became engulfed in flames. The Winchesters stared on in dread, each wondering what they had done. Nikki began to float up into the air, her arms and legs coming unbound as she rotated to face the three. Her eyes were a bright, glowing orange. The fiery figure of Nikki reached out its arms and slowly began to float toward them, a smile spreading over her face.

The fire danced in Sam's eyes and he took a step closer to it.

"Sam!" Dean yelled but Sam didn't stop, he just kept taking another step forward. Soon Nikki's fiery hands were on either side of his face, holding him gently.

"Samuel…" a loving voice came out of her. He couldn't stop looking into her great, glowing orange eyes.

"My Samuel…" the voice said as her hands moved down his face to his neck. Dean and Nikki were behind him, each calling out the name of their sibling. Nikki's burning face looked down gently into Sam's, but her fingertips soon started digging into the sides of his neck.

"Samuel…" the voice said again, just as caring as the first time. Blood began to run down his neck, soaking his shirt collar, but he didn't notice. All he saw as her fire. Finally Dean grabbed the necklace from Alex's clenched hand and ran it toward his brother and Nikki. He pushed it against Nikki's chest and slammed her backward into the ground, still pressing the teardrop shaped pendant into her ribcage.

The flames disappeared and Nikki's brown eyes looked up at him.

Sam took a step backward and held his fingertips to his neck. He looked down at the blood on them.

"Wha-? What happened?" he asked. He stumbled back another step but Alex was there to help him keep his balance. Knowing Sam was okay Dean helped Nikki sit up and watched as her trembling hands latched the necklace back around her neck. She looked down at her fingers too, the tips covered in blood.

"That was no _goddamn _ghost!" Alex yelled at Dean as she removed a first-aid kit from her pack and began to clean off Sam's neck. Dean closed his eyes and sighed.

_What was this thing_?

* * *

Back in the hotel room Dean gave Sam's neck a thorough cleaning and bandaging. Sam seemed relatively out of it for awhile, trying to get everything to make sense in his mind. But it didn't make sense, so he couldn't. Alex was in the bathroom with Nikki, rubbing soap and water over her sister's fingers and cleaning under her nails. On the hike back to the car and even now the four of them were generally silent, each too lost in their thoughts to consider talking about it quite yet. No one was sure what they had just seen in the mountains, but they were all positive they didn't like it.

* * *

Eventually Alex walked out of the bathroom, leaving Nikki sitting on the toilet staring at the wall. She found Sam sitting on his bed staring at the floor, while Dean sat next to him, rubbing his eyes with his hand. Alex folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe.

"I think it's about time for the truth," she said seriously, but not angrily. Everyone heard her, but only Dean looked up at her.

"We don't know what that was," he confessed, "we've been chasing it for over twenty years. It… it killed our mother," Dean almost didn't believe he was telling her this. Alex's face softened considerably.

"Your mother…?" she almost whispered. He looked at the floor away from her. Nikki stepped up behind her sister and placed a hand on her shoulder. Alex bit her lower lip.

"Our mom's dead too…" she said simply. Dean wiped a hand over his face and looked up at them.

"Ghost? Monster? What?" he asked.

"Monster. A drunk driver rammed right into her with his SUV," she explained. Dean nodded, a little surprised that people still died in explainable ways.

"I'm sorry…" Sam suddenly said. Alex and Nikki smiled.

"We've got nothing on you two, though. _Damn_ that thing… The flames and everything. That was some serious stuff you two got there," she almost applauded them. Dean chuckled slightly.

"We're over the top kind of guys. Now let's call out for pizza, I'm starving!" Dean said grabbing for the local phone book.

"Me too! Making us climb all that way! It might as well have been Everest!" Alex complained.

"Oh it was not!" Sam said.

"You two are really out of shape!" Dean told the women.

"This from a guy who thinks he's the second coming of Sylvester Stallone?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

"At least he's in shape!" Dean defended himself.

Pizza was eventually ordered.

* * *

That night as Dean slept on the floor, Alex and Nikki slept in what had previously been Dean's bed, Sam sat quietly in front of his laptop. He opened up a search engine and typed in 'Samuel Winchester.' He found several results about him from his college exploits, including a blog belonging to someone from one of his classes who apparently didn't like him very much, and other assorted men throughout the world. After a few pages he came upon a very interesting sentence. Sam tried to click on the link but it came up broken. Page not found. So did the next link, and the next, and the next. It was becoming clear to Sam that something didn't want him finding out about 'Samuel Winchester, 19th century American witch hunter.'

* * *

The next day Alex and Nikki decided to leave. As Alex shoved their bags into the trunk of their new rental car (also doomed for destruction,) Dean walked casually up behind her. He would have helped her get everything in, but it wasn't much and he was Dean.

"What's that about?" he asked her, motioning with his head to a tree 60 feet away from the car. Sam and Nikki were under it, apparently trying to communicate.

"I, uh, I think they're trying to apologize to each other," Alex figured.

"Looks more like they're playing charades," Dean mused as they watched Nikki's large hand gestures and Sam's incomprehension.

"She's gotten pretty good at it after a life time," Alex said as she slammed the trunk closed.

"Yeah, well, thanks for coming," he said simply and began to walk away.

"Dean!" Alex called after him. He stopped and turned. "If you need any help, give us a call, okay?"

Dean looked at her for a moment and smiled.

"You too. See ya!"


	6. Black Agnes

_**Black Agnes**_

Mia Evans fiddled with the hem of her sweater. An owl hooted somewhere off in the distance and the sound carried throughout the cemetery. Mia brought her knees up to her chin, holding tightly around her legs. She heard a twig snap not far from her and fumbled to turn her flashlight on. The beam of light was just in time to catch a small brown rabbit dash behind a tree. She relaxed for a moment before a wind picked up and rattled branches. For a moment Mia thought she heard a moaning sound. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"It's not real," she chanted, "it's not real. It's not real…"

But it was.

* * *

The Winchesters were traveling east under the afternoon sun, Dean singing along to his cassette and Sam searching on his laptop. He had told his brother about the late Samuel Winchester, and the two decided to head for Salem, Massachusetts. They had a family friend there who kept very detailed logs on witch hunting, past and present. If anyone had heard of this guy before she would have.

"Find anything between here and Salem?" Dean asked turning the music off. Sam frowned down at the screen. Of course he had.

"There are a lot of people dying in a cemetery in Missouri," Sam told him.

"Same cemetery?"

"In front of the same monument," Sam sweetened the pot. Dean nodded his head approvingly.

"Let me guess, mostly teenagers?"

"Yup."

"Someone dared them to spend the night in the cemetery?"

"Yup."

"Sounds like a classic Black Agnes," Dean said. Sam nodded.

"That's what I figure," Sam told him, scratching slightly at the bandages on his neck. Dean noticed it.

"How's your neck doing, anyway?" he asked, trying not to sound concerned.

"Oh, fine. The tapes beginning to pull on my hair…" he explained.

"Maybe you should take it off."

"Yeah, I might," Sam said and they sat in silence for awhile.

"You could do it _now_…" Dean suggested.

"I'm getting to it!" Sam retorted back. Again they sat in silence for awhile.

"Are you scared or something?"

"I'm not scared!"

"Just rip it off; it'll only hurt for a little."

"I'll get to it when I feel like, Dean!" Sam yelled, obviously wanting to drop the subject. And yet again there was silence. Finally Dean sighed in frustration, reached his hand over, and quickly ripped off the bandage on the left side of Sam's neck.

You could hear Sam scream from the next county.

* * *

Sam had forgiven Dean in the several hours it had taken to get into Missouri. In this time he also wetted a tissue and soaked off the bandage on the right side of his neck. Dean thought Sam looked like he'd been the main course at a vampire banquet. Sam agreed.

"Hey, is this the place?" Dean asked as he spotted a collection of buildings not far off in the distance. It certainly looked like it was the beginning of a town.

"Probably," Sam said looking at his map.

"When did the last kid die, again?"

"Two days ago. Mia Evans. I think she was about 15," Sam answered.

"We can go right to the cemetery, then," Dean approved.

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Easier to find the monument. Crime tape will probably still be up. And if it isn't, we can follow the foot traffic. I'd like to have as little to do with the authorities as possible," he explained. Sam nodded, that made sense. For all of Dean's faults, he knew how to do his 'job.'

* * *

They were parked in front of the browning cemetery within the hour. Even from the car they could see the yellow crime tape flapping relentlessly in the wind. It was a good sized cemetery, probably a century old or so. Most of the grave markers were simple and tasteful; nothing over extravagant like so many stones the brothers had seen in their lives. There was one, however, a stone statue of a seated woman with her arms outstretched, that caught the eye rather well.

It was the only one surrounded by crime tape.

"You get the cameras, I'll get the EMF meter," Dean said as they got out of the car.

"You mean the walkman?"

"Yeah… the walkman…" Dean pouted slightly.

Sam always thought that autumn felt most like autumn inside of a cemetery. In his mind, the season was always symbolized by the harvest and Thanksgiving, and that always brought up images of pilgrims and other early Americas. Autumn always reminded him of the past, and nothing felt more like the past than a cemetery. Time collided amongst the dead.

"It doesn't look like anyone is hanging around here," Dean said as he scanned the grounds for actual life.

"Once the tape comes down every kid in town will be dared to come here," Sam added as they stopped in front of the stone woman. Her arms might have been outstretched welcomingly, but her face pleaded for all to go away.

Sam took a picture with the instant Polaroid camera.

Dean stepped under the crime tape and ran his walkman over the woman. It went wild.

"Hello Agnes…" he said casually to it.

"I don't see any markings of who it's in honor of," Sam noticed. They circled the monument.

"Hm, that's odd. Usually it's right out front," Dean muttered. Sam walked over to the marker a couple of meters in front of the statue. It was for someone who had died five years ago. The statue had been killing for at least half a century.

"This isn't it," Sam told Dean. The two of them stood in front of stone woman for a moment, looking at her and thinking.

"Who spends that kind of money and forgets to put their name on the damn thing?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

"Maybe it's a monument for those that have been cremated and couldn't afford a marker. Maybe their ashes were spread over her," he suggested.

"Cemeteries usually use a bush or a tree or something for that. Not a statue."

"Maybe there's a cemetery directory that has the name," Sam said. They looked around. There wasn't even a shack within the cemetery gates, and no church was near by.

"Library, then, maybe town hall," Dean suggested. Sam nodded and looked down at the Polaroid photograph that had developed. In the photograph the stone woman's face was contorted into an evil snarl. Sam was not surprised.

"Look at this," he handed it to his brother. Dean looked at it and nodded.

"_Hello_ _Agnes_," he told it and handed the picture back.

"We should probably head to the library first," Sam said moving back toward the car. Dean joined him.

"Nah. It's Saturday, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"The girl's friends might be home. We should talk to them first, catch up on the local lore," Dean suggested.

"That's a good idea, but, the library won't be available tomorrow and her friends will be," Sam reminded him. Dean thought for a moment as they got into the car.

"Okay, let's find this library," he sad.

* * *

The elderly librarian pointed the Winchesters to a small room in the back where the computer was. As Sam thanked her and they headed for the room, she watched them carefully. Not because she was a perverted old lady, but because she knew everyone in town, and had never seen either of those boys before.

"Okay, let's see what we have here," Sam really talked to himself as he sat down in front of the computer. Dean took a moment to find a chair to sit in. Sam opened up the newspaper catalog search and to his slight surprise the results from the last search done on the computer popped up.

"That was fast," Dean told him. The image on the screen was about a woman who had committed suicide and the monument her family put up for her.

"I didn't do anything. This is the result of the last search…" Sam explained as he wasn't the type to take credit for what he didn't do.

"You mean someone's looking into this thing too?" Dean asked surprised. He supposed that meant the FBI or something.

"There's a way to find out," Sam said as he sent the newspaper article to print.

"Ask the librarian who used the computer last…" Dean said nodding, heading out of the room to do just that. Sam got the exciting job of watching the printer print.

* * *

"According to nice Mrs. Thompson in there, who checked my ID rather thoroughly, I'll add, the last person to use the computer was Mandy Gray, a 'very pleasant girl,'" Dean said as they walked over to the Impala. Sam was busy trying to read through the article and didn't hear him.

"The woman's name was Colleen Dunphy; apparently she killed herself after her lover left her for another woman. That sounds typical for a killing statue, doesn't it?" Sam asked. Dean just looked at him for a moment before getting into the car.

"Did you even hear what I said?" Dean asked him.

"Sorry, no," Sam apologized as they buckled up. Dean started the car.

"Mandy Gray used the computer yesterday, was there until closing," he paraphrased himself.

"Gray?"

"Yeah."

"Shannon Gray was the girl that dared Mia Evans onto that statue."

"Relatives?"

"Probably. I'll get online with a phone book and get the address."

"You can do that?"

"I could probably tell you Mandy's favorite band if you gave me enough time," Sam answered. Dean made a displeased face, having a slight George Orwell moment.

* * *

The Gray household was ironically gray in color, but with a large porch and elaborate blue and maroon trimming, it looked like a nice place to live. Dean and Sam sat staring up at it from the car parked in front. The house almost seemed to symbolize everything the normal, happy family life stood for. To Sam it looked like a dream, to Dean, a nightmare.

"Are we going with FBI?" Sam asked as he got out the old ID bag.

"That's what I showed Mrs. Thompson."

"Who?"

"Never mind…" Dean shook his head and they got out of the car. Before Dean knocked the brothers both tidied their jackets and tried to stand straight, making themselves look a bit more FBI like. Dean even went as far as to put his collar down in the back. As Dean raised his fist to knock the door opened and he almost hit a teenage girl on the nose. She stared menacingly at them from behind bulky black eyeglass frames.

"Who are you?" the girl demanded. Even though she was much shorter then them and had a mop of curly brown hair, both brothers raised their IDs quickly, slightly afraid of her. Dean figured she looked like a hair puller, and he didn't like hair pullers. She squinted at the IDs.

"FBI? Are you kidding me?"

"We're here investigating the death of Mia Evans," Sam explained.

"Like hell you are."

"Hey!" Dean raised a menacing finger at her, "that is not how you address your elders."

"What are you talking about? My dad has t-shirts older than you."

"That may be, but these," Dean held up his ID, "makes us authority. You have to be nice to authority."

Sam did very well not to laugh at that.

"Only _if_ I believe it."

"Well believe it," Dean pushed the ID closed to her.

"Okay then, who's currently the head of the FBI?" she asked them. Dean and Sam were silent for a few moments.

"Um…" Dean muttered. She nodded her head.

"Right. I'm a reporter, nothing gets past me. Now you should really leave before I call the cops," she began to close the door.

"Wait!" Sam moved his arm in to block the door from latching, "is that why you were looking into Colleen Dunphy? Because you're a reporter?"

She paused and looked through the door at him.

"How'd you know that?"

"Do you think that statue it haunted?" he asked her seriously. Mandy glanced away from him.

"It's just a silly story children use to scare each other. Ghosts aren't real…" she told him.

"Look, FBI or not, we are investigating Mia's death, anything you might know…"

"Just go away," she said and closed the door before Sam could get his arm back between it. He sighed in aggravation and took out a small notepad and pen.

"Bueller!" Dean yelled proudly.

"Mueller!" Mandy yelled back through the door. Dean let out a disgruntled snort and snapped his fingers. Sam shook his head and wrote 'Regarding Colleen,' followed by his cell phone number. He dropped it in the mailbox. As the brothers walked down toward the car Sam spoke.

"Who's Mueller?"

"Head of the FBI," Dean explained.

* * *

Sam and Dean had gone to get something to eat and rented a motel room since the sun had begun to set. Now, Sam sat in front of his laptop while Dean fiddled with the television.

"The statue is still making the news," Dean said.

"Anything we didn't know?" Sam asked. Dean watched for a few more moments until the story changed to the new stop light going up on Poplar Street.

"Nope. Hey, what did Mandy mean, calling herself a reporter? She's still gotta be in school, right?"

"School newspaper…" Sam said surprised Dean had even asked. Dean nodded his head and looked back at the TV, feeling rather stupid.

"Our chances of getting to talk with Shannon are pretty low right now. I wouldn't be surprised if she's been 'warned' about us," Dean changed the subject.

"Is it still necessary? I think we've learned everything we need to from this article," Sam raised it slightly in the air.

"Tell me about Colleen Dunphy…"

"Well, she was a pretty, young, rather clever girl who fell in love with the local charmer. He dallied with her for awhile before leaving for another woman. Heartbroken she hung herself from a tree in the backyard. Her ashes were set in a compartment in the base of the monument," Sam explained. Dean took it all in and appeared to be in great thought.

"'Dallied?'" he asked. Sam sighed and shook his head.

"Could you try and focus here?"

"Alright, alright. She was cremated, huh? That's makes it a little more difficult."

"Most ghosts stick around because they have something they have left to do. Revenge, justice, something like that."

"I know. Do we have any clue what she wants?" Dean asked. Sam thought for a moment before shaking his head. He gave Dean a suggestive look, though. Dean just about read his mind.

"If you even say the name Nikki Charles I'll kill you," Dean warned.

"I didn't say a word."

"If you even _think_ about-" Dean started but was cut off by Sam's cell phone ringing. It played Moonlight Sonata.

"Hello?" he asked it. The person on the other end talked for a few moments, Sam nodded his head and said 'okay' a few times. Dean was becoming frustrated at the lack of information he was receiving here.

"No, don't worry, we're on our way," Sam said closing the phone and reaching for his coat and the door.

"Hello!" Dean yelled, still in the dark.

"That was Mandy, she went to the cemetery and, well, she's in trouble," Sam explained. Dean nodded and got his coat. Together they headed out into the darkness.

"Why is every girl we meet an idiot?" Dean asked rhetorically.

* * *

Dean Winchester had the unique ability to turn even the simplest of parking jobs into an all out screeching action scene, and that's what he did as they pulled up in front of the cemetery. Sam braced himself against the door frame to keep from flopping about in the car, and that was _with_ his seat belt on. But once the Impala had come to a complete stop the brothers charged out of it, Sam into the cemetery and Dean to the back of the car for 'supplies.' Running in a cemetery at night is never a good idea, and Sam soon found himself face down in the grass with a very thoroughly stubbed toe. He swore slightly and took the hand and hand gun Dean offered him. A bit more carefully they ran toward the statue. The crime tape was gone and caught up in the branches of a near by tree, but neither man noticed this.

What they did notice was a brown haired high school senior perched on the statue's lap. The once outstretched stone arms were now wrapped around the girl, holding her close. The snarl that had only been visible in the photograph was clearly on the statue's face, gazing at them. Sam noticed Mandy's cell phone lying in the grass not far off.

"Any ideas?" Sam asked his big brother.

"I'm thinking… grab the girl and run…" Dean admitted. Sam shrugged.

"Works for me…" he replied and the two ran for the statue.

"She's mine!" the statue yelled and its arms flew out just in time to knock both men back off their feet. It quickly wrapped back around Mandy.

"Any other ideas?" Sam asked as he shook the pain out of his head and stood back up.

"You're the Stanford man…" Dean replied doing the same. Sam thought for a moment, looking back over everything he had read about Colleen Dunphy and everyone she had taken. Connections, holes, anything he had over looked.

"Help me!" Mandy's sudden cry filled the cemetery. She began to struggle in the stone arms.

"We're trying, just calm down," Dean attempted to reassure her.

"'Calm down!' Are you _insane_?" she yelled at him. Dean was about to call her ungrateful when the statue's face turned down to her and opened its mouth. Mandy began to glow.

"That can't be good," Sam muttered as Mandy began to groan in pain.

"My baby!" the statue's voice cried. And then Sam realized what he had over looked.

"She hung herself two months after he left…" Sam said.

"What?" Dean asked. Sam turned to him.

"She noticed he was gone on Valentine's Day… but died in June…" Sam thought he explained. That made no sense to his brother.

"So…?" Dean asked.

"She killed herself when she found out about the baby!"

"What baby?"

"His baby, in her stomach," Sam told him. Dean nodded, finally understanding.

"How'd you know when he left?"

"It was in the article!" Sam remembered being surprised at the accuracy.

"My baby," the statue's voice said again as Mandy's struggling became weaker.

"So what do we do?" Dean asked.

"Um…" Sam had no idea. So, Dean did what he always did when no other option presented itself.

He shot the damn thing.

"You idiot!" even the weakened Mandy managed to yell as stone chips flew down at her. Dean gave her a good sneer. The statue's broken face reformed itself, and briefly took on a few of Mandy's features.

"It's consuming her…" Sam said as they watched Mandy's slowly grow weaker and weaker.

"We have to do something!" Dean yelled.

"Do what?"

"I don't know, _something_!" he yelled again. After a moment of thought Dean turned to Sam.

"Where'd you say her ashes were?"

"In the base, why?" Sam asked. Dean grinned and Sam understood.

"It's probably in the back! I'll handle the arms," Dean said and began to fire (carefully) at the statue's arms. Mandy was too unconscious to yell at him.

Same made a wide circle around the monument and sure enough on the back of the statue's base was a square stone sealing a compartment. Sam made a precise shot to one of the cover's corners and blasted open enough space to get a few fingers inside of it and pry it off. He looked up at Dean who was shooting at the arm reaching to fend off bullets. Sam crunched down and forced the stone out of place. He reached in and grabbed the heavy porcelain box inside.

"Sam watch out!" Dean cried. Sam looked up in enough time to see a stone arm rotate around to hit him. He quickly held on to the box and fumbled backward into the grass.

The arm stopped and the statue was motionless.

The brothers were still and silent for awhile, waiting to make sure everything was really over. Sam clutched the box to his chest. The silence was broken by Mandy letting out a painful and tired moan. She managed to look backward and see the statue's face looking down at her. It looked peaceful.

"It's okay, you'll be alright," Dean told her as he took a few steps closer and carefully patted her on the shoulder. Still the statue didn't move. He let out a sigh of relief and Sam stood up, keeping Colleen Dunphy's remains far from the monument.

"My head hurts," Mandy said weakly.

"We'll get you out now, don't worry," Dean said taking a hold of the stone arm that still bound her to the statue's lap. With a powerful pull he ripped the stone arm off and dropped it to the ground. Mandy tried to stand up but almost fell to the ground herself. Dean caught her and started carrying her to the car.

"We'll get you home," he reassured. Sam followed closely after them, taking a last look at the statue.

"Hey! What do I do with this?" he asked after his brother, holding the box up.

* * *

The next morning, when Pastor Bob walked up the three steps to the church door, unlocked it, and took a step inside; he found a porcelain box sitting in the middle of the aisle. Upon closer inspection he found a small note reading 'Colleen Dunphy and Child.' At the same moment, a black Chevy Impala was making its way to Salem, Massachusetts. 


	7. Red Ribbon

_**Red Ribbon**_

* * *

"Hey Roger! Rog! You home man?" Gerald Belton asked as he walked into the apartment, taking off his coat and dropping his keys in a dish by the door. He headed to the kitchen, having not eaten in awhile.

"Yo Roger! How'd your date go last night?" he called as he opened the fridge. He took a sip out of the milk carton and pulled an apple out of the bin. Taking a bite he headed back to Roger's bedroom, where he expected to find his brother asleep.

"Why do you keep putting the apples in the fridge?" Gerald asked as he opened the door.

He dropped his apple and ran for the phone.

* * *

Sam was feeling pretty good. It was late in the morning as Dean slept soundly in the passenger seat (making soft snoring noises,) and Sam was driving down the Ohio highway. He really value those moments when Dean was too tired to drive, or at least when he admitted it. When Sam got behind the wheel of that car he confessed, he felt pretty cool. The affect of a nice looking car on the human mind was generally astonishing. The looks he got from the girls in other cars weren't that bad either.

"Hey," Sam was displeased to hear his brother grumble.

"Morning."

"Where are we?"

"About an hour into Ohio," Sam answered. Dean groaned as he tried to stretch his arms in the confined space.

"Can we stop at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?" he asked suddenly. Sam glanced at him, surprised.

"What? No. We're not even going to Cleveland," Sam told him.

"We could swing by."

"I want to be in Richdale before sunset."

"What's in Richdale?"

"Twelve decapitated men in the past two years," Sam explained. Dean nodded, maybe that was more important than seeing Elvis's bunny slippers.

"Anything unusual about them?"

"Besides missing their heads?" Sam asked. "Nothing. No odd markings or writing, no weird smells. Just one quick chop through the neck."

"One chop?"

"That's what the article said, why?"

"It takes a lot to sever a head in one stroke. Even trained executioners needed to take two on occasion. Unless they used a good sword… Was a weapon found?"

"Never. There wasn't even any sign of someone else being there. No fingerprints, footprints, nothing…"

"This should be fun," Dean grinned slightly.

* * *

"Do you believe these prices?" Dean said as he filled the Chevy with gas. He gawked at the gas prices in awe. Dean had seen a lot of strange and unbelievable things in his life, but almost four dollars for a tank of gas was just mind blowing. It didn't matter to Dean that he was paying for it with fake money; it was just the principle of the thing. Sam sighed from the passenger seat, where he had been pushed.

"Does it really matter?" Sam asked. Dean walked around to his window.

"These companies should be arrested for grand larceny…" he explained as if he were some great champion of the people.

"It's called supply and demand, Dean," Sam told him. Dean snorted slightly.

"Yeah well, I demand they supply us with lower prices…" he said as he stood up and walked back to the rear of the car. Sam thought for a moment… wondering if what his brother had just said made any sense.

* * *

Ten minutes later the brothers where in Richdale's city limits. To describe Richdale as a 'city' is rather generous, as it barely met the qualifications. It was a generally nice, quiet place to live, despite the occasional mysterious beheading.

"So where are we headed?" Dean asked as they drove toward downtown. The amount of garbage cans along the street suggested it was garbage day.

"The latest victim was about a week ago, David Pellnat, 28. He was found in his car off the local highway by some state troops," Sam told him, already getting a map to the family's house up on his laptop.

"Alright. We'll check out where they found the car first," Dean said. Sam sighed and started a new search.

* * *

"Yeah, over there. That tree's in the picture," Sam instructed, looking back and forth from a picture of the crime scene on his laptop and the approaching area off of the road. Dean stopped the car twenty feet away and grabbed his EMF meter before they got out. The gravel surrounding them grew wild with weeds but the recent heavy traffic was still visible. Car tracks, footprints, even a set of horse tracks were discernable. Nothing showed any sign of the gruesomeness that had been found there.

"How do you decapitate someone and get away without leaving a blood trail?" Sam asked casually as he looked through the brush by the roadside. Dean was crouched down and was running his meter across the gravel.

"Maybe if your coporealbility is optional…" Dean suggested. Sam stopped and turned around to look at his brother, confused.

"'Coporeability?'"

"Yeah," Dean shrugged, "the ability to be corporeal."

Once again, Sam tried to pretend his brother had said something wise and powerful.

"Hey, I got something here," Dean said as he moved the walkman over a section of gravel. The EMF sounded high in his ears. With some difficulty (and looking rather like a crab,) Dean followed the high static sideways for a few feet.

"That looks like a trail," Sam said following him. Eventually Dean stopped and moved the meter in a large circle. Finally he sighed and stood up.

"It's gone. Whatever it is must have vanished."

"So we're thinking ghost?" Sam wanted to clarify. Dean shrugged and headed back for the car.

"Let's go visit Mr. Pellnat's family," he said.

Sam already had the map.

* * *

The black Impala sat across the street from the Pellnat family's household. A news van was parked in the driveway and they could make out strong lights through the porch window.

"And _that_'s just perfect," Dean sighed. If there was anything he hated more than authority (besides spooks, monsters, and things that go bump in the night,) it was the media.

"Twelve mysterious deaths so close together, I'm not surprised," Sam shrugged.

"It should be awhile before we can get to them. Who else can we talk to?"

"Um…" Sam looked through his notes, "there's Roget Belton's family. He was killed three months ago."

"No one in between?"

"Well, there was Randy Sheehan. But he and his buddy were just driving through. No one they knew was local."

"Okay, then, tell me about this Belton guy."

"Uh. Roger Belton, 24, was found in his bedroom by his brother."

"In his bedroom? Not his car?"

"No, his bedroom. He and his brother had an apartment downtown," Sam answered as Dean started the car.

"Damn it, I thought we might have had another White Lady," Dean steered the car for the tallest building in sight.

"Since when do they decapitate?"

"You never know. They could be expanding their practices," Dean suggested. Sam looked at him.

"They're ghosts, not lawyers…" he said. Dean chuckled slightly, now having the image of a White Lady in a defendant's chair in his head.

* * *

Three months ago Gerald Belton had moved back in with his parents, not willing to stay in that apartment and still a little too shaken up to try and get one on his own. In a way he would never admit to, he was glad for the two deaths that had followed Roger. Because of them the media had begun to leave the Belton family alone, and Gerald was finally able to breathe and try to move on with his life.

He was mulling over this on the living room sofa with a bottle of beer when the doorbell rang. Mrs. Belton, ever the stereotypical housewife, was baking bread and was up to her elbows in yeast, so Gerald sighed and answered the door.

"Yes?" he asked the two men standing on the front porch. Sam stared at him for moment, his mouth agape. He thought back to the picture he had seen of Roger Belton, and the man standing before him. Same brown complexion, same braided hair, even their eyebrows were the same.

"I-I'm sorry. Are you _Roger_ Belton?" Sam asked. Gerald snorted slightly, almost amused by the confused dismay on Sam's face.

"We're twins," he answered and Sam sighed in relief, "you two must not be very good reporters…"

Even though Dean wasn't a reporter, he was still a little hurt by the comment.

"Oh, oh I'm sorry. Can we come in?" Sam apologized. Gerald motioned his beer bottle to some benches on the porch. The media still upset his mother. He closed the front door and the three of them sat down.

"If you're looking for a new angle, you're 360 too late," Gerald told them.

"We just want to hear everything from you. The pure, unaltered stuff," Dean sounded very professional. Gerald sighed and leaned back against the house.

"Roger told me he had a date that night, and, well… That it'd be best if I had some place else to spend the night," he explained, "I came home around noon, called to him, he didn't answer, so I headed into the bedroom and there he was."

"Where, exactly?"

"Lying sprawled out on his bed, kind of Jesus like," Gerald held his arms out to his sides as if on the cross. Sam and Dean glanced at each other.

"But his neck…" Gerald continued, slightly more melancholy, "it'd looked cut, like on all of those cops shows, and there was _so much_ blood…"

"Did you hear anything weird? Smell anything?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, the smell of the blood just filled my nose!" Gerald acted like it was a stupid question.

"What about sounds?"

"Just my heart in my ears," he answered. They could hear his mother calling for him from inside the house.

"Anything else?" Gerald asked them as he stood.

"No, that's fine, thanks," Sam said. Dean looked at his brother surprised. As Gerald walked off Dean stood.

"Wait! This date of his. What do you know about her?" he asked. Gerald shrugged.

"Some White chick he met at a bar. He didn't tell me a name or anything," and with that Gerald went inside.

* * *

After leaving the Belton household Dean and Sam rented a hotel room with a dirty coffee maker. Dean sat backward in a chair staring at it as the coffee gurgled. It sounded ill. Sam sat not far off clicking away at his laptop as usual. His eyes narrowed as he searched.

"I don't believe you forgot to ask about the date," Dean asked as the coffee died.

"I was thinking about something else he said," Sam explained. Dean stopped mourning the coffee and looked at him.

"What?"

"This…" Sam said spinning his laptop around to face Dean. On the screen was slideshow of pictures from the twelve crime scenes. As they went on, Dean noticed that every man had his arms out to his sides, as if on the cross.

"That's important…" Dean said walking over and getting a better view. Roger Belton flipped up onto the screen.

"It means we're not dealing with a demon," Sam told him. Dean nodded.

"Unless it's one with a wicked sense of irony."

"At least this narrows our options down to a religion," Sam said. Dean watched the bodies flip by again; making sure it couldn't be some fluke coincidence.

"Do a search for White women who have been decapitated in the area, I bet you'll come up with something," Dean instructed. Sam nodded.

"I wouldn't bet against you."

* * *

It must not have been easy for young Sister Mary Yvette. To be at prayer one morning in front of her Lord and Savior, to be cut down by a psychotic confessor. Father Harrington had called for an ambulance and read the Sister her last rights, but she couldn't have heard any of it. She couldn't have heard anything after the axe hit.

"Did they catch the guy?" Dean asked, looking over Sam's shoulders. The younger Winchester scrolled down a bit.

"Yeah, he wasn't hard to find. Guy walking the streets covered in blood carrying an axe?" Sam answered. Dean nodded and leaned back.

"A nun, though? Jesus Christ…" he sighed and Sam looked up at him. They both realized what Dean had just said.

"It would explain the positioning."

"Yeah but not the _murders_…" Dean told him. Sam shrugged.

"Who says nuns can't have vengeful spirits? Call it 'divine justice,' if it makes you feel better," Sam told him. Dean rubbed the back of his neck, not sure what to think. A killer nun would certainly be something new.

"Okay, okay. So our ghost is a nun out for, what, revenge?" Dean asked.

"Like I said, they caught the guy."

"Well, what do our victims have in common?"

"Well…" Sam turned back around to look at the screen, "they're all male, between the ages of 17 and 40… They all have really bad driver's license photos…" Sam offered. Dean frowned at him.

"I don't think that's it, Sammy."

"Well, that's everything they have in common. Race, jobs, homes, religions, everything else is all different."

"Well, maybe they've all sinned!" Dean suggested. Sam just looked at him for a moment.

"Sinned?"

"It's possible!" Dean defended himself.

"They're men between the ages of 17 and 40, it's _more_ than possible!" Sam corrected him. Dean fell quiet.

Sam had a point.

"Well I doubt she picks these guys at random," Dean said and they both thought for a moment. After a long enough time Dean shrugged.

"Well, Roger Belton's brother said he met her at a bar, that may be our best bet."

"To go bar hopping?" Sam questioned. He wasn't quite sure Dean had the right reasons behind that suggestion. It didn't help that Dean had begun checking himself out in the mirror. Sam sighed, shook his head, and wondered what he had done wrong in a past life.

* * *

It was almost midnight when Sam found himself nudging in between happy, intoxicated people at the Duchess, the bar closest to Roger Belton's apartment. Bad dance music filled the bar but somehow people seemed to communicate. Sam frowned as he finally spotted his brother seated at the bar, talking to a brunette who was probably out past curfew. Once Sam reached them he tapped on his brother's shoulder.

"Mary Yvette is a blonde," he had to yell into Dean's ear.

"Who?" Dean yelled back. Sam just glowered down at him.

"Oh!" Dean remembered, "oh yeah! Right! Well, too bad. Bye!" Dean told the brunette and headed off into the crowd with his brother. The girl sighed and frowned down at her drink. Stuff like this always happened to her.

"I don't think she's going to show up here," Sam told Dean.

"Let's just wait a little longer," Dean suggested and frowned suddenly, "this music really sucks!"

"You're getting off the point!"

"So wh-? Hey, Sam!" Dean pointed toward the front door. Sam turned around. Entering the bar was a young woman with pale blonde hair that didn't seem to reflect any of the bar's lights. She wore a long, rather concealing black dress and looked almost to be in mourning. Tied around her neck was a long red ribbon in a bow under her left ear.

"I think we found our nun," Dean said and Sam nodded. They each took a step closer to her and she saw them almost instantly. She looked scared and took off back out the door. The brothers tried the best they could to maneuver through the crowd. Dean pushed people aside and Sam excused himself and got past. They reached the door at the same time and their hands collided as they reached for the knob. They both pulled back to allow the other. After a moment they both reached forward again and their hands collided. Again they pulled back to let the other, and again their hands collided.

"Oh would you just open it!" Sam yelled and Dean wrenched the door open. They raced out onto the dark street and found nothing.

"Damn it!" Dean yelled and hit his thighs with his fists. Sam was still looking around.

"Where'd she go?"

"I don't know!"

"Well where could she have gone?"

"_I don't know_!" Dean repeated.

Several clocks in Richdale turned to midnight, and the Winchester brothers could hear church bells. They looked at each other and grinned childishly.

* * *

Sam and Dean stopped running once they found themselves standing across the street from St. Denis's Church. The last bell for an hour rang as the men caught their breath. It was a large, looming church of white stone and tall steeples. There were several tinted glass windows depicting religious stories, including St. George and the dragon and Christ at the cross. Behind the grand church, almost hidden by the darkness of night, was what looked like a dormitory, simple and moderate. Just the place for nuns to live and pray.

"I don't suppose this is _her_ church?" Dean asked, his breath successfully captured.

"St. Denis's? Yeah, this is it," Sam answered. Dean nodded, almost as if they should have expected it.

"She kills drunks by her church, that figures."

"She kills men who try and sleep with her by her church," Sam corrected.

"Okay, okay. After you," Dean offered.

* * *

The inside of the church looked much like anyone who had seen the inside of a church would suspect. The typical tall ceiling, long rows and pews, and an elaborate alter at the end. Against one wall were a few confessionals, and everywhere there seemed to be bowls of holy water. A giant crucified Christ watched over the entire scene.

"Look," Sam whispered nodding his head down toward the alter. Dean obeyed and found a kneeling blonde woman praying to her god.

"She's a sad sight, isn't she?" a man suddenly said out of nowhere. Dean and Sam turned around to see a small, elderly priest walking over to them. His bespectacled eyes were on the silent woman.

"Do you know her, uh, Father?" Dean asked. He was never sure how to appropriately address clergymen. The priest nodded.

"She comes here to pray every night. There is much trouble upon those shoulders," he told them. Sam and Dean glanced at each other.

"Well," the priest sighed, "I wish you both solace," he told them and walked back to where ever he had come. Once they were sure he was gone they turned back to each other.

"What does he mean, 'solace?'" Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

"We have more important things to worry about. Come on," Sam said and they quietly made their way down the middle aisle to Sister Mary Yvette.

* * *

Once they found themselves standing directly behind her, they weren't entirely sure of what to do. They had sort of been winging the entire operation and it now seemed to catch up to them. They stared questionably at each other in silence, as the praying figure hadn't seemed to notice them. Each brother wanted the other to act first. Finally, without any other ideas, Dean placed his hand in a bowl of holy water and flicked the substance at her.

There was no burning, no horror, no screaming. She turned her head and rather calmly looked at him.

"Hi," was all Dean could say and smiled at her. Sam rolled his eyes, suddenly getting the feeling they were both doomed. She continued looking at Dean with empty eyes.

It was then that Sam really noticed the red ribbon tied around her neck. While it was long and beautiful, there seemed to be something else about it. Almost the feeling that it was flowing, almost the feeling that it was… blood.

While the ghost's eyes were still burrowing into Dean, Sam stepped forward, grabbed one end of the ribbon, and pulled. The bow came undone almost instantly and the bells suddenly began to toll once again in their belfries. Sister Mary Yvette closed her eyes as her head feel back. Back, and off of her neck.

Before her head hit the ground, it and the rest of her body faded away into nothing.

Dean looked at his brother and smiled, secretly proud. Sam was too surprised it had worked to notice.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Dean said heading back down the aisle to the door. Before Sam joined him, he took a step forward and placed the long red ribbon on the alter.

* * *

It was sunny the next day as the Winchesters drove northeast into Pennsylvania. Dean noticed a nice, cool scent in the air as he drove along with his window down. He glanced over at his brother, who seemed rather interested in the screen of his laptop.

"What are you looking at?" Dean asked, in the back of his mind wondering it was girly pictures.

"I'm reading up on St. Denis."

"Anything interesting?"

"He was a patron saint of the demonically possessed," Sam told him. Dean grinned.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. And get this," Sam paused for dramatic affect, "he was beheaded."

Dean looked at him.

"_Now_ you're kidding," Dean said. Sam smiled, shook his head, and told his brother about the life and times of St. Denis.


	8. Museum

_**Museum**_

* * *

Stephen Manney whistled a gloomy tune as he patrolled through the different areas of the museum. Most of the lights were off for the night and only his flashlight would show him the way. He ran it along ahead and occasionally up onto the glass cases that would reflect his image back to him. Whenever he passed one of the red blinking lights of a surveillance camera he'd wave to his partner at the desk.

Just as Stephen's whistling began to pick up in tempo he entered one of the exhibition rooms. Again his flashlights moved from case to case, lighting up fake bugs and flowers alike. When the light flashed over a case on local mammals Stephen stopped whistling.

The glass case was shattered, the taxidermy animals destroyed and 'I'm Still Here' was written on the scenic background in red.

"Oh damn it!" Stephen swore and sighed. He picked up his radio.

"Mike we got another one."

* * *

"I don't believe you don't want to go to Niagara Falls," Dean almost complained as he tried not to get mad at how slow the traffic was moving.

"I just don't think it's safe," Sam offered. Dean scoffed.

"Not safe? How can it not be safe? They probably have rails and everything," he questioned his brother's logic.

"You might be tempted to go over in a barrel," Sam told him grinning slightly. Dean sighed and shook his head. The truth was, Sam knew very well the likeliness of some happy couple going to see the falls and cuddling up right in his line of vision. Lately whenever Sam saw those Hallmark, lovey-dovey moments he would think of Jessica, and feel like crap.

"If you're worried about our passports you don't have to be. You can see the Falls without crossing into Canada," Dean explained. Sam knew that.

"My passport is actually up to date."

"And real?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. Dean was more impressed by that than was normal.

"Can I see it?" he asked. Sam shrugged and opened the glove compartment where he had decided to keep it. A pile of various things fell out of it and into a heap on the car floor. Sam frowned and looked at his brother.

"No, you can't," he said and tried to shove everything back into the compartment. One of these days they were going to have to sort through all of this stuff.

"Sam…" Dean said slowly. Sam looked over and saw his brother looking strangely at something out the window.

"What?"

"Does that sign say what I think it does?" Dean asked. Sam looked out the window. Next to the road was a sign reading 'Buffalo, An All America City.'

The brothers stared at it as the traffic finally began to move again.

* * *

"The Buffalo Museum of Science has reported another mysterious attack last night after security guards discovered another vandalized exhibit. This makes the fifth time in two months tha-"

"Are you sure I'm looking in the right direction?" Dean interrupted the newscaster. The Winchesters had gotten a hotel room on the highest floor they could (by Dean's request,) and now the elder of the two was gazing out the windows using a pair of binoculars. Sam sighed as he watched the news.

"I'm sure," he lied. Dean was trying to see Niagara Falls, and Sam had given him a random direction to look in.

"Authorities still aren't able to determine how the vandals are getting into the museum," the newscaster went on.

"Hey Dean, check this out," Sam said turning the volume up. His brother took himself away from the window and watched the television for a bit.

"So? This is a city, Sam. Vandalism happens," Dean shrugged.

"I know. But five in two months, no sign of forced entry, no prints…" Sam enticed. Dean shook his head and turned back to facing Pennsylvania.

"Smart ex-employee who got a copy of the key made," he explained.

"You need to be more open-minded…" Sam almost teased. Dean turned around and stared at him in disbelief.

* * *

That night the dream catcher seemed to have lost its effect. Sam saw flames, and blood, and wide eyes. He woke up in a sweat and sat in the dark breathing heavily. He sighed and punched the dream catcher slightly. It swung back and forth, reminding Sam of a small pendulum, only with feathers. He ran a hand through his hair and looked over at Dean, who was practically falling out of bed in his sleep.

Sam got up and went into the bathroom. He turned the light on and took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright lights. The mirror reflected back a tired, pale, sad face. Sam raised a hand to his cheek and realized that's what his face really looked like. He frowned and splashed some water over him.

Out of all the hauntings he had seen in his life, what Jessica's face was doing to him seemed to be the worst.

* * *

Dean was having a very pleasant dream about Marilyn Monroe when he suddenly woke with a snort. His eyes focused to see Sam jogging to the hotel door and opening it. He heard his brother being very polite and walking away from the door carrying a tray. It wasn't long before Dean could smell breakfast meat and sat up. Sam set the tray down and lifted the lid off one of the plates.

"What'd you get me?" Dean asked stretching his arms over his head.

"Well," Sam started, "I wasn't sure what you'd want. So I got eggs, bacon, pancakes, sausage, ham steaks and toast for me… And I got you oatmeal."

There was a very long period in which Dean could not speak.

"_What!_" he yelled. Sam started laughing slightly.

"I'm just kidding. I got you the same thing I got me. I even remembered the over easy eggs," Sam explained still chuckling. Dean frowned and moseyed over to the table.

"That wasn't funny…" he said lifting a lid off his plate. It smelled good.

"I know, I'm sorry," Sam was still grinning. Dean had looked like a little hurt puppy at the idea of oatmeal.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Dean asked chewing on a piece of sausage and sitting down.

"A little. I did some research on the Science Museum," Sam started. Dean looked up at him. "A couple of years ago a cleaning woman was stabbed to death there."

"Really?" Dean munched away.

"There have been some ghost stories about her ever since."

"That doesn't surprise me. Is this coffee black?"

"Yeah. Anyway, I was thinking we could stop by there today," Sam shrugged as he cut up his pancakes. Dean glanced at him and he took a sip from his coffee mug.

"I'll bet there are some ghosts at Niagara Falls," he said casually. Now Sam glanced at him.

"The museum has a mummy exhibit," he brought out his trump card. Dean stared at him.

"Mummies?"

"Yup," Sam nonchalantly chewed on some pancakes.

"I love mummies…"

"I know. But, if you don't really want to go, it's okay," Sam shrugged.

Dean thought for a moment.

"They have organ jars…" Sam added. Dean sighed in defeat.

"Alright, when do they open?" he said. Sam grinned and continued with his pancakes.

* * *

Several hours later Sam was giving Dean a sheepish apologetic look. While Dean saw it, he didn't really care as he wiped apple juice off of his jacket in the men's room.

"The Falls would have been safer," he grumbled as he wet the paper towel again.

"I didn't know there were going to be kids here…" Sam defended himself. Really, though, how was he supposed to foresee the juice box missile? Dean didn't seem to want to hear it.

"All this for some lousy vandalism," he grumbled. Sam chose to ignore that.

"Did you bring the EMF meter?" he asked. Normally he would have referred to it as 'the walkman,' but Dean seemed grumpy enough already.

"Yeah, here," Dean pulled it out of pocket and gave it to him. Sam secretly wiped some apple juice off of it and put it on.

"I'll be with the crime tape," he said and left the men's room. Dean swore at his juiced jacket, unaware of the 10 year old boy in the stall.

* * *

Sam stepped aside just in time to avoid an onslaught of toddlers and their stressed out mothers. Looking to make sure the way was safe before moving on, Sam turned the EMF meter on.

It instantly crackled in his ears.

He smiled, because while he'd never admit it, Sam liked being right. Especially if it meant that Dean was wrong. He would have felt bad about this, but he knew Dean felt the same way, so it all worked out. The crackling continued to get quicker as he entered the hall where the most recently trashed exhibit was. There were a few people standing by the yellow crime tape. A boy had his collar held by his mother to keep him from trying to venture back under the tape.

The red words 'I'm Still Here' seemed to be looking over them all.

"I bet it's a ghost," a small Asian girl said. Sam turned the EMF meter off as he stood at the tape. The sounds had gotten more than he could bear.

"There's no such thing as ghosts," the girl's father told her, patting her head affectionately.

"Grandma talks to them," the girl argued.

"Your grandmother talks to the toaster…" the man said. That seemed to end the discussion. Sam grinned slightly, for indeed, many years ago, they had encountered a haunted toaster.

"Hey," Dean's deep voice came up behind him. Sam turned as his brother joined him at the line. Sam triumphantly handed him the headphones and turned the meter on. Dean's head recoiled at the crackling. He frowned at Sam's beaming smile.

"Alright, alright," Dean took the head phones off, "so what's her name?"

"Jazmin Green," Sam said and the little girl pulled her father elsewhere.

"Stabbed?"

"They think someone from the neighborhood followed her in. Never caught them," Sam explained. Dean let out a sigh as he thought about it.

"Well she hasn't hurt anyone."

"Not yet," Sam responded as if Dean shouldn't hold her nonviolence against her.

"I think it's obvious what it is she wants," Dean said motioning to the words written on the wall.

"So how do we show her?" Sam asked. There was a moment while Dean thought.

"We know you're here Jazmin!" he finally yelled. Sam looked at him in shock as his voice echoed throughout the museum. Dean just shrugged. Suddenly he felt a tug on his jacket. He looked down to see a small boy picking his nose.

"Are you crazy, mister?" the boy asked.

"Yes, he is," Sam answered for him. Dean frowned at his brother as a frantic red haired woman ushered the boy away, pulling his finger out of his nose and chastising him. Dean watched him go as Sam realized the few other people in the room were looking at them too.

"Let's get out of here," Sam suggested.

"Why?"

"Because you're embarrassing."

* * *

A minute later the men were milling around the mummy exhibit. Sam was trying to read the hieroglyphics the museum had painted on the walls while Dean twisted his head to get different looks of the mummy. The hieroglyphics didn't make any sense and the mummy was ugly from any angle.

"If this Green woman isn't doing anything to hurt people I don't see why we have to bother," Dean said as the brothers were surprisingly alone in the small exhibit.

"Violence escalates, you know that. She's only been at this two months. In another two she could be killing," Sam reminded him. Dean nodded as he crouched down to look at the mummy.

"So why are so interested in this ghost?" Dean asked.

"Well I know how much you like mummies."

"Sammy…" Dean said warningly. Sam glanced at his older brother and sighed.

"I wasn't really, until I read about what happened to Jazmin Green. I think sometimes," Sam paused, "sometimes the ghosts are innocent too. Sometimes they're the ones that need our help."

They were both quiet for a moment.

"Okay, well, I think it's obvious Jazmin wants attention. How do we give it to her?" Dean asked as he stood up.

"The media has been covering these attacks like nothing. She has more than enough attention," Sam said.

"Yeah but they think it's vandals. They don't know it's her."

"She's wants recognition," they both understood.

"Well short of what I've already done, I'm out of idea of how to give it to her," Dean confessed. They were both silent for a moment. Sam was out of ideas too so he shrugged.

"Me too, come on, let's go before some kid douses you with orange juice," he said and headed out of the exhibit. Dean took a last look down at the mummy.

"Yeah. These things are always more interesting when they're moving…"

* * *

Later that day the brothers were back in their hotel room, Sam clicking at his laptop as usual and Dean sprawled out in front of the television. He was watching cartoons.

"I'm doing a search on Winchester and fires," Sam suddenly said.

"And…?" Dean asked hopefully.

"So far just a lot of people who don't know 'firearm' is one word," he grumbled. Dean frowned and turned back to the TV. He didn't know that, and he loved firearms.

"How about Samuel Winchester? Any luck?"

"No. I keep trying, but every site on the net is 'page not found,'" Sam sighed.

"I guess it's up to Eve, then," Dean sighed as well, "hey do you think she's ever been to Niagara Falls?"

Sam scoffed.

"What is it with you and Niagara Falls?" he asked. Dean just shrugged.

"I've never seen them before," he suggested. Sam glared at him for a moment, not believing him.

"This is about Marilyn, isn't it?" he asked. Dean looked at him seemingly hurt by the accusation.

"It has nothing to do with her."

"Of course it does. You're obsessed with her."

"I am not 'obsessed.' True I think she's a wonderful actress and an important historical figure, but the Falls just happen to be a glorious and awe-inspiring sight," he explained. Sam narrowed his eyes.

"I don't believe that…"

"Well I don't car- hey! Check it out," Dean pointed to the television.

"Earlier today authorities apprehended Marlon Wagstaff for the recent attacks on the Buffalo Museum of Science. Wagstaff, who was fired by the museum several months ago, apparently had a copy of the museum's key made and has been vandalizing the exhibits as some sort of revenge," the newscaster said. Sam and Dean watched in silence for a few moments longer.

"I don't believe that…" Sam oddly enough repeated himself.

"He confessed and everything."

"But the readings… Is something wrong with the EMF meter?" Sam asked. He wouldn't be very surprised if there were.

"No! Don't bring that into this," Dean paused, "I guess this means you were wrong…"

Sam glared at him.

"That walkman picked up something. If it wasn't the vandal then what was it?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged in a laid-back sort of way.

"I don't know…" he looked seriously at Sam for a moment, "can we order out pizza?"

* * *

The next day Sam dragged Dean back to the museum. He managed this by threatening to shoot the Impala's windshield. Dean gave in surprisingly quickly and with no protest. He did, however, insist on wearing his poncho while inside the museum. Now he and Sam were standing in front of the same exhibit they had been the day before. The scene had been cleaned up and the crime tape taken down. The panel of what had been broken glass was now a plank of wood. This not being nearly as interesting as Wagstaff's 'I'm Still Here,' Sam and Dean were alone in the exhibit hall.

Which Sam was glad of, as it meant not getting weird glances from people wondering why his brother was wearing a poncho.

"Anything?" Dean asked. Sam listened to the headphones.

"Same as yesterday, it's going crazy. There's got to be something here," Sam shook his head, not understanding it.

"Here, give me that," Dean took the EMF meter from his brother and listened himself. He began to walk slowly around the room, listening to sounds rise and fall depending on how close he was to the wooden plank.

"Hey, Sam," Dean got his attention, "it's just as loud over here as it is over there."

Dean was standing against the same wall but several meters away from the attacked exhibit. They both looked confused, as that didn't seem to make any sense.

Suddenly Sam's face lit up and he searched his pockets for something. Reaching into his back pants pocket he pulled out a pamphlet he'd picked up down stairs. He opened it up and looked at it for a few moments. He smiled.

"Well…?" Dean asked, wanting to know what the good news was.

"Guess what's on the other side of this wall," Sam said suggestively.

* * *

For the second time in as many days, Dean crouched down to get a better look at the mummy. The EMF meter crackled violently in his ears. He let out a long sigh as he turned it off.

"Every mummy gives off high electromagnetic frequencies…" he said, his voice showing how stupid they had been to forget it. Sam shrugged, since he didn't like feeling stupid.

"We had another explanation for the readings. We had no reason to expect it was the mummy," he excused them. Dean glanced at him before standing back up.

"It being here is enough reason," he said. The two began to leave the exhibit, feeling their job there was done.

"Do you know what really bothers me, though?" Dean asked.

"You didn't get to shoot anything."

"Yeah! All of this, it all seemed like it was good for some action and then nothing. Just some ordinary guy out for revenge," he complained. Sam grinned slightly but said nothing.

Neither brother noticed the decayed finger moving upward on the mummy's chest.

* * *

A couple of hours later Sam felt glorious and awe-inspired. A great, gentle roar filled his ears and his skin felt cool and fresh. Dean stood next to him, his back against the railing and a giant grin plastered over his face.

"I told you, huh? Isn't this something?" he asked. Sam turned to him with a soft smile. He had to admit, his brother was right.

"Okay, yeah, this is pretty cool," Sam said looking forward again. Next to them thousands of gallons of water fell over a rocky edge to the area below. A great mist filled the air. They were both very small next to the splendor of Niagara Falls.


	9. The Beast: part 2

**_The Beast: part 2_**

* * *

A bearded man looked over to several other men holding torches, waiting for his command. He nodded and the men walked over toward the woman bound to a stake. They lit the kindling surrounding her. There was silence except for the crackling of the fire and a soft breeze blowing through the trees. As the flames grew up around her, the woman stared forward blankly. She stared straight into the eyes of one of the men, the only one whose hands were covered in her blood.

"May God have mercy on your soul," he calmly said.

Suddenly she began to cry.

* * *

"Dean! Hurry up! We told Eve we'd be there by one!" Sam yelled out the window. Already in Massachusetts, the Winchesters were parked alongside the highway. Sam was sitting impatiently in the passenger's seat while Dean was out in the bushes.

"Yelling isn't going to make me pee any faster!" Dean yelled back over his shoulder. Sam sighed in aggravation and faced the road in front of them. He had told Dean to use the bathroom at the last stop, even if he didn't think he had to. But no, Dean had to be stubborn, and now look where they were.

If Dean thought Sam wasn't going to mention this to Eve he was gravely mistaken.

After a few more minutes Dean finally walked around the car and got in. Sam noticed him wipe his hands on his pants and buckle himself up.

"We're going to be late," Sam told him.

"She knows us better than to expect us on time."

"Then she knows us enough to know you're the reason we're late," Sam added as they drove off.

"Why are you so whiny? PMS acting up again?" Dean asked. Sam frowned at him.

"The sooner we get there, the sooner we know about Samuel Winchester, and the sooner we can figure out what killed Jessica," Sam explained. They were both silent for a moment before Dean pressed a little harder on the gas pedal.

* * *

Dean drove through the quaint streets just outside of Salem. While time characteristically moved forward for the rest of the world, in this neighborhood it seemed to stand still, or even move backward. To anyone who walked down the streets for the first time it would seem as if nothing had changed since the war for independence, but closer inspection would show power lines, satellite dishes, and other current objects.

"Would you just admit we're lost?" Sam said. Dean frowned as he searched the houses for something familiar.

"Just feel lucky I found the right neighborhood. Dad was always behind the wheel before," Dean told him. Sam frowned at the mention of their father and they both fell silent for a moment.

"Why don't you just let me look up a map online?"

"Nuh uh, no online. Believe it or not people got around just fine before the internet," Dean tried to act like he wasn't embarrassed to look at a map.

"Then can we call Eve for directions?" Sam asked. Dean just shot him an angry stare. Sam sighed and continued staring out the window.

They were never going to get there…

* * *

It was by a miracle of God (or at least the steeple of St. Brigid Church,) that Dean and Sam were able to navigate themselves to the small building trimmed with blue and flowerpots hanging off every windowsill. It was two stories tall, the bottom a candle shop and the top a small apartment. For a moment the two men looked up at the building they had visited so many times before throughout the years, and never seemed to change.

"Well this is definitely it," Dean said. The two got out of the car and no sooner did their doors close then a woman stepped out of the shop.

Eve Apple (which is legally her name,) was a kind looking woman in her early 50s. Her chin length blonde hair was beginning to naturally turn white, but her blues eyes were as colorful as ever. She smiled as she walked over and hugged Sam. He hugged her back and she held him out at arms length as Dean stepped up onto the sidewalk beside her.

"Look at you," she told Sam, "how on earth did you get to be so tall? And so handsome! Oh you're adorable! Now why aren't you at school?"

"Things came up…" Sam tried to explain, still grinning foolishly under her adoring gaze. Eve had been one of the only major supporters of him going to school. She had even pestered Dean to try years ago. She smiled sympathetically and hugged him again.

Dean cleared his throat.

Eve looked over and smiled at him now.

"Oh I'm sorry Dean," she said and gave him a hug too.

"Hi Eve," he said grinning.

"Hello sweetheart. I trust you're taking good care of yourself," she asked. He nodded.

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Now you boys come in and tell me what Dean did to make you late!" she said walking into the shop. Sam grinned at his brother triumphantly as they followed her.

* * *

The small candle store looked the same as it had over the years, even the same strong smell greeted the men as they stepped inside. Long after the candles were gone and the store had transformed into something else, that smell would still be there. By now it was in the floors and walls, soaked into the wood and wallpaper.

"Just a minute, I'll get Sam to come watch the store while we visit," Eve told them picking up a phone. The brothers glanced briefly at each other before pretending to be interested in the shop's stock as Eve talked. Sam was Samantha Apple, Eve's 31-year-old daughter. She was partly the reason Dean liked to call Sam 'Sammy,' as plan 'Sam' reminded him of the tall blonde he'd been dreaming about since puberty.

"There, she'll be right over," Eve said. Dean and Sam watched as the younger woman emerged from the building directly across the street.

"I never understood why you named your daughter after a character on Bewitched," Dean said as he watched Samantha's blonde hair flow as she jogged across the street. She wasn't a particularly beautiful woman, but when Dean first saw her she was a 16-year-old love goddess… in his mind, at least.

"She's just lucky I didn't name her Endora," Eve said jokingly as Samantha entered the store. She smiled when she saw the brothers.

"Sammy, Dean, how have you guys been?" she asked giving Sam a small hug and patting Dean on the back.

"We've been okay. Who's watching the B and B?" Sam asked. The building across the street (the Golden Apple,) was Samantha's small bed and breakfast.

"Oh," she smiled widely, "Clarence Ervin."

"Who's Clarence Ervin?" Dean asked, narrowing his eyes.

"My fiancé," she answered raising her left head. Sure enough on her ring finger was a ring. A diamond encircled by rubies, her birthstone. Dean frowned momentarily, then smiled.

"Husbands don't bother me, I'll fight him for you," he told her. Samantha gave him a lopsided smirk, Eve chuckled slightly, and Sam sighed in embarrassment.

"Tell him what else!" Eve instructed.

"I'm also pregnant," Samantha told them excitedly. Sam smiled while Dean frowned again. It'd be much harder to fight a baby…

"How far along are you?" Sam asked.

"Three months," her hand went to her stomach.

"Well congratulations," Sam added. There was a pause before he elbowed Dean.

"Oh, oh yeah, congratulations," Dean half mumbled. Samantha smiled at him sweetly and gave him another pat on the shoulder.

"Come on boys, I'll make you some tea," Eve ushered the Winchesters upstairs.

* * *

Eve's apartment looked much like the store, only with a bathroom and other essentials for living. Charms and assorted spells of happiness and good luck hung off of windows and shelves, her small fireplace had been transformed into an alter. The rug in the main living area was a giant pentacle.

"What tea would you boys like?" Eve asked walking into her kitchen area and over to the great 'wall of tea,' which is what Sam and Dean had always called her vast collection.

"Anything is fine for me."

"I don't care," Dean said as the men perched themselves on stools. Eve set the teapot on the stove.

"Now, which of you would like to tell me what is going on?" she turned to them. They looked at each other, both suggesting the other tell her.

Finally Sam lost the staring contest and spoke.

"Dad's disappeared," he told her. Eve's eyes widened in surprised.

"What do you mean, 'disappeared?' Literally or… what?" she asked. While the brothers had tried not to notice and would never hint at the idea even now, there had always been an attraction between Eve and their father. In fact, it had taken John Winchester several years to admit to himself that he was attracted to a woman that was not their mother.

"We're not sure. He went off on a hunt and we haven't heard from him since," Dean explained. Eve's eyes seemed to search the air in front of her for answers. She almost looked like she was about to panic.

"We think it has to do with whatever happened to Mom," Sam said, not quite sure if he should mention Jessica. With that Eve took a breath and calmed herself, realizing that she had to.

"What can I do to help?" she asked them.

"We picked up a lead about a witch hunter that might be involved. Every time we try to find out about him something goes wrong," Sam explained. She nodded understanding.

"What's his name?"

"Samuel Winchester."

There was silence for a moment before the teapot whistled. Eve went back to take care of it.

"Are you kidding?" she asked turning the stove off.

"No," Sam shook his head, "he was a witch hunter in the 19th century."

"Probably around Colorado," Dean added. Eve dropped three tea bags into three mugs.

"Samuel Winchester, huh?" she asked filling the mugs with hot water. "Any relation?"

"We're not sure. Like we said, every time we try to find anything-"

"Okay, okay, I got you. I'll start a search on my computer and check how it's doing when I get back," she set their tea in front of them.

"Back from what?" Sam asked and Dean burned himself.

"Tonight's the full moon. Sam and I have prior engagements," she explained.

"Right, the witch thing…" Dean said, consciously noticing the pentacle hanging around Eve's neck.

"Yeah that," she took a sip from her mug and savored it for a moment, "hey, since you guys are here, can I ask a favor?"

"Of course," Sam set his mug down so she'd have his full attention. Dean was looking around for the sugar.

"Well, you remember the chickens I keep out back?"

"I've tried to forget. Where's the sugar?" Dean asked. She glided it over to him.

"Well something's picking them off."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, taking some of the sugar for himself.

"Something swoops down in the middle of the night and drinks them dry. I've lost half a dozen so far," she explained.

"That sounds like a chupacabra," Dean said.

"When's the last time you heard of a chupacabra 'swooping?'" Sam asked. His brother shrugged.

"When's the last time you heard of a chupacabra in _Massachusetts_?" he retorted.

"Boys," Eve quelled the argument, "my chickens?"

"Right, sorry. You said it comes at night?" Sam asked. She nodded.

"Not long after midnight."

"You've seen it?" Dean asked. She shrugged.

"I shot at it…"

"You shot at something you didn't see?" Dean asked her surprised, which is odd considering how many times he'd done the same thing.

"It could have been a person," Sam said calmly.

"It was twenty feet in the air and just attacked Gertie!" she defended herself.

"What's a gertie?" Dean asked.

"She is one of my hens. Well, she _was_…" Eve said. The sad look in her eyes told the brothers they had no choice. They had to help her.

* * *

There was, in fact, a full moon that night, and Sam and Dean glared up at it. While Eve and Samantha had gone off to celebrate the moonlight, the Winchester brothers were sitting in a chicken coop. That's right, they're in the coop. As a matter of fact, there was one nice chicken sitting beside them, keeping the brothers company. Dean stared at it as if it were about to attack.

"What time is it?" he asked Sam, still watching the chicken.

"About half past midnight," Sam answered. Dean sighed angrily and leaned his head back against the wire fence.

"All of this for some dumb chickens," he complained. At the remark the chicken that had been by his side stood up, clucked a few times, and moved over to sit by Sam. Dean frowned at it.

"I think I ate a cousin of yours back in Buffalo," Dean told the bird. Sam frowned at him and petted the chicken's back slightly. It did not seem to mind.

"We're here for Eve, remember? We owe her for a lifetime," Sam reminded him. It wasn't quite a lifetime, really, but as young as the brothers were it might have been.

"Sam, I'm freezing my ass of in a damn _chicken coop_, I don't owe _anyone_ this," Dean complained.

At that precise moment a shrill call filled the air briefly.

"What was that?" Dean asked as the two men stood up.

"I don't kn-" the sound cut Sam off, "it almost sounds like a bat!"

"A bat?" the sound came again, "are you insane?"

Then came a great fluttering sound and a dark figure came racing down from the sky. The chickens (including their friend,) ran for their shelter. The brothers watched as it shrieked and landed not far in front of them.

"What the hell?" Sam asked rhetorically.

"It looks like a midget in a bat suit!" Dean said. As politically incorrect as Dean was, he was right. The creature resembled some miniature half bat, half human beast. It stood upright on two legs, but had wings tucked at its sides like a bat. Its head looked mostly like a bat, with the large ears and nose, but was shaped like an oval.

It shrieked at them and suddenly began to chase the chickens around. Quickly it reached down and snatched the chicken who had been sitting with them. Remembering why they were there, both brothers aimed their guns and fired. The chickens squawked and tried to fly about as the creature fell. Dean took a few steps close and fired the coup de grâce. Sam suddenly felt a little strange, a little sad, even. For a moment, the creature had seemed almost childlike, and shooting it in cold blood seemed a little wrong.

This feeling was quickly gone when their friendly chicken walked over and sat at her savior's feet.

* * *

Not long after that Eve and Samantha got home. Dressed in their full witch attire, they said prayers and spread herbs over the creature's body as the Winchester brothers fell asleep in the Golden Apple. Too few hours later the men woke up and staggered downstairs to breakfast, which smelled better then anything they had eaten in awhile.

"Coffee?" a short, balding man asked as they sat down. They both said yes and the man left for a few moments. The encounter may have gone differently if Dean had known the man was Clarence Ervin.

Between ordering and the food arriving, Eve joined them at the table. Samantha had called her to tell her they were up. First the older woman thanked them very much, but spent very little time on that. She pulled a folder out of the bag she had slung over her shoulder.

"I found Samuel Winchester," she told them setting the folder on the table. Both men put their coffee mugs down.

"And…?" Sam asked.

"He was a frontier witch hunter, born in the 1830s," she paused, "but he didn't hunt alone. It was him and his brother, Daniel."

There was a long pause.

"And their wives…" she added.

There was a longer pause.

"Wives!" both Sam and Dean exclaimed at once. Clarence emerged with their food and set the plates in front of them, but neither brother noticed him. Eve nodded.

"Joanna and Ruth," she said. There was the feeling of an axe about to strike.

"I found a photograph…" she added. She opened the folder and set a beige picture on the table between them. Both men leaned forward to look at it.

It was like most other pictures from the 19th century. Two women seated with two men standing behind them holding rifles. They all looked calm and slightly bored.

But the men looked distinctly familiar.

Very familiar.

Sitting at the table familiar.

"Holy shit…" Dean mumbled, but Eve didn't chastise him. Sure enough, one of the standing men looked exactly like Sam, and the other exactly like Dean (with a beard.)

Beyond that, however, Sam noted the pretty blonde haired woman sitting in front of Samuel Winchester. The one with the ring around her finger.

It was Jessica. Or was it, Joanna?

"What does this mean?" Sam was able to say very softly.

"My bet," Eve said, "you two pissed off a powerfully bad witch in your past life."

"Past life?" Dean questioned. He wasn't a huge believer of the idea. Eve nodded.

"You know everyone has past lives. You might do different things, but who and what you are never changes. Neither do the people around you and what they mean to you," she explained, "do you know either of these girls?"

"Yeah…" Sam picked the picture up and examined her face closer, "this is Jessica."

They were all quiet for a moment, two of them sad and the third confused.

"Who's Jessica?" Eve finally asked.

"My girlfriend at Stanford… She died… Just like Mom did," Sam explained. Now Eve felt sad too.

"I'm sorry Sammy," she said softly.

"What happened to them all?" Dean asked her. Eve sighed and handed him a piece of paper from the folder.

"I'm not sure. The women died some time in the 1850s, the men seem to disappear after that."

"Any family?" Dean asked. Sam was too busy looking at the photograph to listen.

"Some cousins in Kansas. Farmers, businessmen. I couldn't track the family line very far, but I wouldn't be surprised if some of them were still around," Eve said.

"I won't be surprised if some of them were in this room," Dean took a sip of his coffee and finally noticed their food had come.

* * *

Not long into the afternoon the brothers were on the road again. This time they were headed for Kansas to see if they could find anything on Samuel and Daniel Winchester's cousins. Why assume they were related when they could prove it?

The feeling in the car was still rather sad, and Sam continued to look down at that photograph. Him and Jessica, husband and wife, hunting witches together. It had all happened at some point, once upon a time.

What stupid thing had he done? Was he the reason she had died then, too?

"Give me that!" Dean grabbed the picture from his brother's grasp.

"Hey!" Sam complained, not because he missed it but because his brother shouldn't just grab something from his hand like that. Dean ignored him and held the picture to the top of the steering wheel, trying to look at it and drive at the same time. His attention was on the dark haired woman sitting in front of Daniel Winchester.

He had no idea who in the world she was.

But he was looking forward to finding out.


	10. Electricity

Electricity

* * *

"There you go. That should do it," a portly electrician said as he climbed down his ladder. Several of the officer workers seated around him watched with nervous curiosity as he closed his ladder up and prepared to leave.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," their boss said as she helped the electrician to the elevator.

"Oh it's not problem. A bit weird though, something like that happening…" he scratched his head. After a few more pleasantries the elevator doors closed behind him and the electrician was gone. The woman headed back toward her office and let out a sigh of relief.

No sooner did she do this, the office lights began to flicker.

* * *

Sam emerged from the bathroom clean from head to toe. At least he would be, once he finished brushing his teeth. Once again Dean and Sam had rented a small motel room for the night. It was cramped and smelled funny, but seemed oddly like home to the traveling brothers.

"Wha' are you doin'?" Sam tried to ask Dean, who was reading something off Sam's laptop.

"I'm chatting with Nikki Charles," Dean answered and began to slowly type something. Sam spit and looked at the back of Dean's head amazed.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Did you know they're from Alabama?" Dean asked simply. Sam rinsed his mouth out and walked up behind his brother.

"Yeah I did. Why are you chatting with her? You don't even like them."

"I like them fine. Besides…" Dean turned around to look up at him, "we could use some friends."

Sam was speechless for a rather long time.

"Friends?" he finally asked. Dean shrugged and turned back around to the computer.

"Seemed about time…" he said, "besides, we don't have to lie to them."

Sam gave him a questioning look, and even though Dean couldn't see it he added something.

"You know, _as much_. We'll only have to lie a little," Dean said. Sam sighed softly and rubbed his hair with a towel.

"I suppose that's something…"

* * *

Later that night as Dean was asleep and murmuring something about pasta, Sam sat watching the late night news. The room's television was small and mostly static, but he was able to discern what was important and what was weather. This diversion proved to be very boring very quickly so Sam turned the TV off. He sighed and looked around at the room once again engulfed in darkness. Once his eyes adjusted he crept carefully over to his computer bag and lifted the manila folder out of it. Still carefully he made his way into the bathroom and closed the door. Flicking the lights on Sam sat down and opened the folder. He pulled out the picture.

There was a photograph of Sam and Jessica in his wallet, and he always avoided looking at it. But this picture, this picture of Jessica in his life, in his world… It was something he had never thought of. He had always imagined himself living in her world. Her normal, happy life. The idea of doing what he'd always done, with her at his side…

He smiled, and he wasn't sure why.

* * *

While sitting in the bathroom, Sam could hear something coming through the wall from the room next to them. Because it was a cheap motel and the walls were paper thin, he could easily tell that the sound was a woman crying. She sounded gloomy and lonely, as those who cry so often do. Sam couldn't help but feel sorry for her, even though he had no clue what had made her so sad.

Due to the cheapness of the hotel, Sam didn't pay much attention when the bathroom light began to blink.

Sam took one last look at the picture and stood up, feeling like he might try to sleep again. As Sam reached for the door handle, the light shattered.

He swore loudly and fell to the ground in front of the door as a hundred needles flew into his back. He continued to swear as he kneeled on the floor surrounded by glass. It wasn't long before Dean was pounding at the door.

"Sam! What happened? Let me in!" Dean tried to shove the door open, which only rammed it into Sam's head. Finally Dean was able to get his head and one arm into the room, waving a flashlight around. He saw the shattered light and the glass all over the floor.

"Jesus man, what'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Sam yelled, still crumpled and bleeding on the floor. Finally Dean realized his brother was in pain.

"Okay, okay, come on now, off the floor," Dean struggled around the door and managed to get Sam in a standing position without cutting himself or his brother.

Sam swore a few more times as Dean walked him over to the bed. As Sam sat down Dean turned on a light switch. The light fizzled and then popped softly. Dean frowned in the dark.

"Hang on, I'll go to the car and get some lanterns and the first-aid kit," Dean said using the flashlight to find his shoes and the door key. Sam grumbled something but was too busy trying to find a position that didn't hurt to have any coherency.

* * *

Dean stepped out of the motel room and closed the door behind him. It was late out and a little chilly for anyone in just a t-shirt and boxers. He heard some commotion from behind the door of the room next to him, and just as he turned his head toward it a woman burst out. She was in a bathrobe and fumbling with a suitcase that had a sleeve hanging out of it. She was young, barely 20, with frizzy red hair and a thousand freckles. Her face was pink and puffy, and she looked frantic and scared.

Dean thought amusingly that she looked like she'd just seen a ghost.

"Are you okay?" he asked, being chivalrous as he is. She turned to him like a squirrel caught in the act.

"What? Why would you ask that?" shot out of her mouth. Dean took a moment to comprehend.

"Because you look like you've just killed somebody," he admitted. Her eyes widened.

"I didn't! I didn't mean to! He'll be okay, right? I'm sorry!" she yelled and ran off, the suitcase bumping along beside her. Dean just stared after her completely confused for a moment before heading down to his car.

* * *

It was nearly dawn when Dean pulled the last shard of glass from Sam's back. Sam barely felt it, as so much of his back had gone numb from pain. Not the pain from the glass, but from the rubbing alcohol Dean applied after removing each shard. Sam almost preferred to keep the glass in.

"Oh quit whining," Dean chastised as he dapped some alcohol on for the last time.

"I'll remember you said that when it's your turn to be the pincushion," Sam threatened. Dean didn't think that was very funny, especially since he had once been the pincushion. Just a demon in Santa Monica and an uncomfortable shove into a cactus plant.

Dean winched at the memory.

"Sorry…" he said, kind of meaning it. There was a bit of an awkward silence as Dean put band-aids on some of the bigger cuts.

"So what happened?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged, which he then regretted.

"I don't know. The light just went. I didn't do anything," Sam answered. Dean nodded as he moved around in front of his brother.

He told Sam about his encounter with the former girl next door.

"I think she had something to do with it," Dean said being rather suggestive with his eyebrows.

"That's impossible."

"I know," Dean seemed to be enjoying the idea. That annoyed Sam to no end.

* * *

Sam sat in front of his computer, leaning gingerly back onto the pillow between him and the chair. Dean had gone out in search of food with the agreement that Sam would look into the possibility the girl had something to do with this. So, because he was hungry, Sam was doing a search for local electric phenomenon.

It seems people in this area get hit by lightening quite often.

He sighed and hung his head. Either there was nothing going on, or there was nothing worth reporting. But, a Winchester and not to be defeated, Sam started a different kind of search. Instead of local happenings he looked into worldwide happenings, and the electricity of people.

Jackpot.

* * *

"In 1986, Erica Newsome was giving birth," Sam started but paused to take a bite out of a very nutritious hamburger from Wendy's. Dean sat in front of him eating a Frosty, which is always a good thing to have for breakfast.

"And…?" Dean was impatient.

"And-" Sam swallowed, "she was electrocuted."

"For what?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why'd they electrocute her?"

"She was giving birth, and she was electrocuted."

"They electrocuted a mother? They even let her finish breast feeding?" Dean asked. He just liked saying the word 'breast' and not sounding perverted.

"She never fed the baby."

"Is that why they electrocuted her?"

"What 'they' are you talking about?"

"They! Them! The people who fry other people. The law."

"How did they get into this?"

"You said she starved her child to death so they executed her."

"No I didn't. I said she was giving birth, and she was electrocuted," Sam said, chewing on a French fry. Dean just stared at him. Finally he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Sam, how was she electrocuted?"

"They don't know. She was there, in the delivery room, a mother, and sudden cardiac arrest. Autopsy showed electrocution," Sam explained. Dean finally understood.

"Did she have a baby girl?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact, she did," Sam said and grinned at the smile that spread over his brother's face.

"Who is she?" Dean asked. Sam took a bite from his burger and flipped through some pages on his laptop.

"Mariah Newsome. She was raised by her grandmother in the area. Mom's mom," Sam explained.

"What about her father?"

"He's not mentioned."

"Okay, so, we're thinking the baby has some kind of electrical power?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

"You ever heard of anything like that?"

"Maybe. I dunno. I've heard of a lot of things…" Dean wasn't useful.

"What about Dad's journal?"

"Here, look," Dean tossed the journal to him. Sam flipped through it. If Dean didn't know about it their dad probably wouldn't.

"Why do you suppose she was here? She has a home," Sam asked. Dean shrugged and balled up his hamburger wrapper.

"She's young. Young people like to run away from their families," he was less than subtle and Sam secretly frowned at him. Dean shot for the trash can and missed. Sam felt slightly better.

"Well, I'll run a search on her, see if I can come up with anything."

"You haven't done that already?" Dean was actually surprised.

"I didn't have time. You weren't gone that long."

"Okay, then. You get to work, I'll go take a shower," Dean said standing up. As much as Sam hated doing all of the work (though he secretly loved doing research,) Dean's plan seemed like a good one. This was mostly because Dean had begun to smell.

"Make sure to clean the glass up," Sam suggested.

"You didn't clean it up?"

"I've been too busy being in agony over here!" Sam defended himself. Dean frowned and opened the bathroom door, looking over what he'd have to do. He frowned, and didn't feel any better when Sam made a basket with his hamburger wrapper.

"You _bitch_…" Dean mumbled in his brother's direction.

* * *

This motel room was so cheap it didn't even supply soap and shampoo. But that was okay, as Dean had 'borrowed' from every previous hotel and had quite a supply and selection to chose from. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror (after having swept up,) and was trying to decide if he wanted to smell like roses or jasmine… One bottle of shampoo was specifically for fine hair. He leaned in closer to the mirror and ran a hand over his head. Did he have fine hair?

He decided he did and stepped into the shower with the jasmine scented soap. The smell reminded him of Eve's candle shop, and that was a nice thing. The water came on cold so he was uncomfortable for a few moments before it was warm enough to hang his head under.

What was he thinking, having _friends_? And the Charles sisters, of all people? He had to be nuts. Maybe all the years of this were getting to him. _Friends_… Please! What did he need them for? He was a lone wolf, and there was nothing wrong with that. Hunt alone, die alone, that was for him. Dean sighed and he turned around and started to shampoo his hair.

Sam needed friends. He was always a social, people person. Always a good kid. A little too much common sense, sometimes, though. But he needed people.

Dean felt sorry for anyone who needed Nikki and Alex Charles.

Though, he supposed, they hadn't done anything really bad. Not to him, anyway. They did give him eight thousand dollars, and came to help without question… Maybe they were okay. They could be prettier. No, it's probably better that they aren't. Dean didn't think he could be friends with a very pretty girl. His mind was far too basic for that.

Then he thought about the girl in the picture. The wife of Daniel Winchester. His wife…

The idea sent a chill down his spine.

Dean had pictured himself as a lot of things, but a married man hadn't been one of them. He looked briefly at his left hand, where the noose would go. He could never get married.

He was a lone wolf.

* * *

"Are you sure this is it?" Dean asked skeptically. The Winchester brothers had taken a drive down town and (after paying a bundle for parking,) were standing in the lobby of a very tall office building.

"I wouldn't have come here if I wasn't sure," Sam reassured him. Dean figured that was probably true.

"Okay, so, where are we going?" he asked. The men were standing in front of a board listing what offices were on which floors. Sam's hand went to his back pocket where he retrieved a print out. It was an office newsletter, welcoming newest employee Mariah Newsome.

"The law offices of King, Levitt & Lewandowski," Sam told him. They both searched the board closely, Dean repeating the first name several times to himself.

"There, 13th floor," Sam pointed to reaffirm. Dean rolled his eyes as they headed for the elevators.

"Thirteenth, figures…"

* * *

After 12 floors of Dean smiling at the pretty lady on the elevator (because he didn't know she was married and the mother of three,) he and Sam entered the law offices of King, Levitt & Lewandowski.

It was chaos.

All of the lights were blinking, the copiers were shooting paper out into the aisles, and workers were hiding under their desks. The brothers surveyed the scene with little surprise.

"Well this is the right place…" Dean said simply.

"Let's see if we can find Mariah," Sam suggested and the two began to walk amongst the aisle. They could hear a woman not far off yelling at someone to do something.

"Watch out for the lights," Dean warned as they blinked violently. Sam wasn't sure if Dean meant that as a joke or not.

"Hey, look," Sam bent over and picked up a piece of paper a nearby printer had shot to the floor. Dean leaned over and read it.

"'I'm sorry,'" he read, "yeah, that's her."

"Okay, well where is she?" Sam asked dropping the paper. They heard a loud groan and what sounded like metal hitting metal. Without even a glance at each other, both brothers ran in the direction it came from.

* * *

They found Mariah in a closed off office, dropping a metal stool to the ground. She walked over to the window she was in front of and pushed hard against the metal lock she must have been hitting, and opened the window. She sobbed as she looked out it.

"Aw _hell_," Dean said as Mariah grabbed the sides of the window, obviously prepared to jump out. The men ran over, Sam grabbing her around the waist and Dean closing and locking the window.

"Let go of me!" Mariah yelled as she struggled in Sam's arms, kicking him several times.

"Hey!" Dean raised his finger at her, "self defenestrating it not the answer!"

Both she and Sam looked at Dean calmly. Mariah looked at him because she had no idea what he had said, and Sam, because Dean did.

"You don't understand! I'm dangerous!" Mariah began to struggle in Sam's arms again. He was beginning to think he should have closed the window.

"But you don't do it on purpose, right? And you're sorry?" Dean asked. She calmed down again and looked at him, almost pouting.

"Yeah…" she admitted almost reluctantly. Dean shrugged.

"So it's okay," he told her. Mariah remained calm, looking at Dean a little surprised. She had just been ready to die, and now here was this guy telling her everything was fine.

The lights stopped flickering.

* * *

"I only had the job a couple of days, then Mrs. Lewandowski started yelling at me, and everything started going insane. The lights, the copiers, the computers… An electrician came and changed all the light bulbs, he said everything was going to be okay, but it wasn't…" Mariah explained. The brothers had taken her out to lunch in some small dinner just out of the city center. She was fiddling with the straw of her Coke and over dipping a French fry in ketchup. Sam was a little disgusted by the fry thing.

"That night I went home and cried to my grandmother. Then, um," she was obviously trying to stay calm, "her pacemaker…"

"Is that why you went to the motel?" Sam asked. She nodded.

"I pass it on my way home," she looked at him, "sorry…"

"Don't worry about it. I've had worse," Sam reassured her. Dean looked at him questionably, as he'd been lead to believe it'd been the worst pain ever.

"It just seems whenever I get nervous, or anxious, things just start happening…" she shrugged and _finally_ stopped dipping her French fry into the ketchup.

"You ever think of moving out into the country? Away from the city?" Dean asked as he gave the waitress a credit card.

"My mom did leave a lot of money in her will, I suppose Gran and I could use it…" she smiled slightly as they all stood up and prepared to leave.

"The city isn't the great of a place anyway. You'd probably do better with a lot of trees," Sam suggested.

"The falls here always have kind of sucked," she grinned.

"There, see. You and your grandmother should go buy a cabin someplace," Dean said unlocking his car. Sam and Dean got in the front and Mariah got into the back as they were going to take her home.

"There are some nice lakes around here," Sam added. Dean turned the key in the ignition. The car made some cranking noises and stopped. He tried again, and still nothing.

"Son of the bitch!" Dean yelled, hitting the steering wheel with his hands, "the battery's dead."

"Hey Mariah," Sam turned to looked at her.

"Yeah?"

"Boo!" Sam yelled. Mariah screamed in surprise and the engine started right up. Sam and Dean grinned, and neither minded when Mariah hit Sam on the head.

* * *

"So was all of that our line of work or not?" Sam asked as the brothers continued on their way to Kansas. Dean shrugged.

"Who knows? The doctors didn't understand it, so maybe it was," Dean suggested. Sam was typing on his laptop.

"When do you think we'll get to Indiana?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged again.

"We still have to go through Ohio, so, maybe a day or two. Why? What's in Indiana?" he asked as the computer beeped.

"Nothing. But Alex and Nikki are in Iowa…" Sam answered, figuring that was enough. Dean nodded, understanding.

"Tell her we can meet in Fort Wayne. We can all have, like, lunch or something. What is it friends do?"

"Lunch is fine," Sam said grinning, "can I tell them about Mariah?"

"Only if you mention all the swearing you did. How'd you get such a dirty mouth, anyway?"

"It's the way I was brought up," Sam hid that grin. Dean glanced at him, not entirely sure what to think of the response.


	11. Tiffany Ricks

_**Tiffany Ricks**_

* * *

"My baby! My baby!" a middle aged woman cried as her husband and friends walked her through the cemetery to the car. A long line of vehicles was lining the cemetery road underneath an overcast sky. It was always gray at funerals. The pastor stood by the sympathy flowers, watching the casket being lowered. He didn't usually, but this girl was different. For someone to die in such a way… well, it shook him to his very faith.

* * *

Dean and Sam sat in front of the Fort Wayne city hall in Indiana. It was nearing one o'clock and both brothers were growing bored.

"We agreed on noon, didn't we?" Dean asked. In addition to be bored, Dean was also growing irritable.

"It's not hard to get lost," Sam reminded him. Indeed, the brothers had gotten lost in Fort Wayne's streets several times on their way.

"Would you just call them?" Dean didn't seem to what any reason.

"No. I've called them twice already. They're on their way!" Sam tried to drill into his head. Dean just sort of glared at him.

"Fine," he said and continued leaning against the car hood. There was a very small moment before Dean snatched the cell phone out of Sam's back pocket and locked himself in the car with it.

"Dean!" Sam pounded on the glass as his brother dialed. Dean pretended not to hear him.

"Hello?" Alex's voice was on the other end.

"Hey, it's Dean. Where the hell are you guys?" he was very subtle.

"We're in the back seat, get out of the car!" Alex replied in a corny, scary movie voice. He was not amused.

"You're like, three hours late!" he complained.

"Your math teachers have failed you, Dean…"

"Just where the hell are you?"

"Illinois is nice this time of year," she answered. Dean sighed in aggravation.

"You're kidding me…"

"We're not that far away."

"It'll take you hours!"

"I'm a speed demon. Nikki would tell you if she could."

"I don't believe you! How can you be so damn late?"

"I'm sure Nikki would tell you that, too."

"You're really impossible, you know that?"

"Hey Dean…" Sam's voice asked.

"What?" Dean turned to look out the window. Sam wasn't there.

"Give me back my phone," Sam's voice was almost laughing. Dean twisted around in his seat to look for Sam and eventually found him, standing by the car now parked behind the Impala. Sam, Alex, and Nikki waved at him.

"I hate you all so much right now," Dean said and the three laughed at him. Well, Alex and Sam laughed, Nikki just grinned.

* * *

"So Sam here decides that he's going to take the White Lady home, and drives my car right _into_ the house. Right through the damn _front door_," Dean said and Alex and Sam laughed. The four of them were sitting at a table in a nice, rather large sized restaurant. They'd been trading stories back and forth for about an hour now.

"Did it work?" Alex asked. Dean nodded.

"It ended up her kids were there waiting for her," he said. The sisters smiled.

"Well that's sweet," Alex said.

"No, it wasn't," Sam shook his head, "they were _waiting_ for her."

"Ohh," Alex said, understanding. Nikki signed something.

"She wants to know how the car made out," Alex translated.

"Nothing serious," Dean answered, frowning intently at Sam, who didn't have to look at him to know it.

"You're the one who shot at it," he said in his defense.

"It's _my_ car. I can shoot at _my_ car," Dean corrected him. Further bickering was stopped by laughter coming from another table. All four looked over to see a large group of people seated around several tables pulled together. They were all dressed in black.

"Must be a birthday or something," Alex said.

"Dressed in black? No, it's a funeral…" Sam corrected her as they watched the people talking. Although they were all laughing and eating, there did seem to be a sense of sorrow hanging above the table.

"I hate funerals…" Alex mumbled and took a sip of her water. Nikki tapped her shoulder and signed something.

"Grandma's, remember?" Alex responded. Nikki shook her head.

"Oh, right… The baby thing…" Alex nodded in understanding and took another sip of her water.

"So you've lost your grandmother?" Sam asked, trying to sound gentle. Alex nodded.

"A heart attack. I was seven, Nikki you would have been," Alex thought for a moment, "16 months?"

Nikki shrugged, and Alex did too.

"Something like that…" the sisters seemed suddenly solemn.

"Do we have any grandparents?" Dean asked.

"I have no idea…" Sam answered as the check arrived.

* * *

With only a little hinting from Sam, Dean did a really nice thing. He used one of his fake credit cards, and instead of getting one hotel room, he got two. The reason for this was, after seeing the relatively shabby clothes the Charles sisters wore, the run down cars they rented, and the small amount of food they ordered, it was easy to tell they weren't that well off financially. Alex refers to it as 'being on a budget.' So the Winchesters offered to pay for a nice room for them, because that's what friends do… and because it didn't really cost them anything.

* * *

"This friends thing isn't as hard as I thought…" Dean admitted to Sam in their hotel room. He was flipping through TV channels while Sam was searching on the Internet for ghostly things.

"Yeah well, these are the nice moments…" Sam warned him, and he wasn't sure why. He _was_ trying to get Dean to have friends. Not just for his benefit, but for Dean's as well.

Sam didn't want his brother to be alone.

Suddenly there was a banging on the wall behind Dean, where the Charles sister's room was. Sam hung his head and Dean looked at him.

"These are the nice moments?" he asked. Sam shrugged.

"Channel seven!" Alex yelled through the wall. Despite the poor means of communication, Dean changed the channel.

"Earlier today, Tiffany Ricks was laid to rest in Forest Lawn cemetery. The victim of a rape and homicide, Ricks's killer is still at large," a cute Asian newswoman said. Sam turned in his chair to watch too.

"Please, if anyone has any idea who did this to my niece, please call the police at-" a man dressed all in black said.

"Hey, he was at the restaurant," Dean pointed to the television in case Sam thought he was referring to some other man.

"That must have been the funeral they went to," Sam said as his cell phone rang. He answered it.

"Yeah, I just said that," Sam told Alex. He listened for a moment and Dean turned the TV off. Sam didn't seem to really understand what he was listening to.

"You're checking out the cemetery? Why?" he asked her.

"Not every murder means a ghost, Alex…"

"Well no, we got other plans."

"Okay. No, it was no problem."

"Yeah, we'll see you guys later. Bye," Sam finished and hung up. Dean waited to be briefed.

"Oh, um. They're going to check out the Ricks grave tomorrow," Sam explained.

"What for?"

"I don't know. They just are," Sam went back to his computer. Dean shrugged. There was so much he didn't want to know about women.

* * *

A couple of hours later Dean realized the ice in the cooler he had brought had all melted and the few beer bottles in the cooler were warm. He frowned as he wiped the wet bottles down with a washcloth and poured the lost ice down the bathroom sink.

"Is there an ice machine on this floor?" Dean asked Sam, who was still clicking away. He hadn't found anything since they got there, but in Sam's defense, he had spent most of the time playing games.

"I think there's one down the hall," Sam answered, frowning at the screen. LESawYour112 was kicking his butt at online chess. Dean grabbed the ice bucket and a room key.

"I'll be right back," he said and left Sam to his game.

* * *

Dean swaggered down the clean smelling hallway in search of an ice machine. He hated warm beer, but that's what he got for not checking that cooler for about, what was it? A month now? But that was in the past, a little ice and the beer will be fine.

So Dean was feeling rather optimistic as he noticed someone swaggering down the hall toward him, carrying a full bucket of ice. Nikki had her curls hanging down for the first time Dean knew of, and was wearing a pair of worn sweat pants and an old tank top. If Dean had to pick a word to describe how she looked, he'd pick 'soft.' He smiled and waved to her. She didn't respond. Before they passed each other he stepped right in front of her. That time she saw him and stopped, startled. The blank expression that had been on her face was replaced with a large smile. She waved.

"Yeah, hey. We're friends now, right?" he asked her. She took a moment but nodded.

"So… am I supposed to ask you what's wrong?" he wondered. She looked at him, still smiling, and shook her head.

"Oh good," Dean sighed with relief and chuckled slightly. One of the last things he wanted to discuss was whatever was on Nikki's mind.

"Hey, where'd you get the ice?" he asked, holding up his bucket. She opened her mouth but closed it, as if momentarily forgetting she was mute. Nikki then pointed a finger over her shoulder but decided against that too. Then she was still for a moment while she thought. An idea finally came to her. Nikki handed Dean her filled bucket of ice and took his empty one. She smiled at him, waved, and headed back in the direction she had come.

"Uh…" Dean began to protest but then realized, '_why_?' He watched her walk off to get some ice before he walked back to his room.

* * *

"Some people say, I'm only out at night maybe those folks, might have got it right," Dean sang along with AC/DC. He turned to Sam, as if expecting him to join in. The brothers were driving out of Fort Wayne, continuing their way to Kansas. Sam rolled his eyes as his brother continued to be off key. He really had to invest in some earplugs.

But, it was a good thing he had yet to do so, as Sam was able to hear his cell phone ring. He punched the music off and answered it.

"Hello?" he asked. Dean was too disappointed with the lack of music to care what Sam was talking about. He could still hear it, or rather; the music was still ringing in his ears. Whatever the reason, he could still nod his head with the beat.

"Turn around," Sam told him, closing his cell phone.

"What? Why?" Dean asked.

"Women's intuition…"

* * *

The Impala pulled up to the gates of Fort Wayne's Forest Lawn cemetery. The brothers got out and surveyed the crime tape, half dozen police cars, and coroner's van. They both grimaced as a strong smell met them.

"Augh, man, what _is _that?" Dean asked holding his hand to his nose.

"I don't think I want to know," Sam answered, pinching his nose closed. Alex and Nikki jogged over to them, surprisingly smiling.

"I _told you_!" Alex boasted. Nikki elbowed her slightly.

"What the hell happened? The entire cemetery is taped off," Dean asked from beneath his sleeve.

"What's with your noses?" Alex asked them, slightly confused.

"That smell!" Dean told her. She looked surprised then laughed.

"Right, sorry, we've been here for a few hours, I guess we got used to it."

"What happened?"

"Wilson Perkins," Alex said. The brothers just waited for her to continue.

"He was one of the suspects in Tiffany Ricks's murder. As far as the police can figure, he came to her grave and blew himself up, out of guilt," Alex explained.

"Is _that_ what that smell is?" Dean asked. Alex nodded.

"He's all over the cemetery, even in the trees."

"That's disgusting," Sam said.

"But it doesn't mean a ghost," Dean added.

"No, but this does," Alex said, motioning to her sister. Nikki held up a complicated, cool looking gadget with headphones.

"Is that an EMF meter?" Dean asked. The sisters nodded.

"Can I see it?" Sam requested. Nikki gave it to him.

"A friend helped us get it dirt cheap."

"This is so cool!" Sam said as he looked at it. He put the headphones on.

"It's second hand but it works great," Alex explained and Sam turned hit the on button.

"It sounds like piano notes!" Sam practically laughed as he listened. Dean frowned and snatched the meter off his brother and handed it back to Nikki.

"It's too showy," he complained. Sam grinned but said nothing.

"Well it's definitely showing signs of ghost activity," Alex told him, making sure Nikki turned the device off.

"It's a _cemetery_!" Dean motioned his hands to it in case she hadn't noticed. Alex rolled her eyes.

"We know what a normal cemetery sounds like. _This_ isn't it," she said pushing the headphones on Dean's head and turning it on. Dean recoiled from the high notes in his ears and took it off.

"Can you turn the pitch down on that or something?" he asked angrily as he handed the headphones back. Alex narrowed her eyes and put them on herself. She looked surprised.

"It's going nuts," she told Nikki, who looked equally surprised.

"That's not what it was before?" Dean asked. Alex shook her head.

"This is a lot stronger than before," she said. Nikki pointed at the brothers. Alex moved the device in their direction and shook her head.

"You think it's us?" Dean asked, almost hurt by the accusation.

"Why not? You guys are probably covered in SR."

"SR?"

"Spiritual residue…" Alex explained. Dean sighed.

"So what do you think is setting it off?" Sam asked her. Alex shrugged as she moved the device around them. She followed the sounds and they followed her for a few feet until she came to a man standing by the cemetery gate.

"Oh, sorry," she said as she bumped into him. He didn't seem to notice her. He just kept gazing into the cemetery.

"Sir?" Alex asked. She walked around in front of him and gasped. His eyes were completely black.

"Nikki…" she said as she turned the meter off. Her sister only took one step before the man pushed past Alex and took off at a full run toward the cemetery.

"Hey! Stop!" a policeman yelled.

"That's Otis McDonald!" another yelled.

"Who's Otis McDonald?" Sam asked as they watched police chase the man into the cemetery.

"Another suspect in Tiffany's death…" Alex said surprised as Nikki helped her to her feet.

"How do you know that?" Sam asked her.

"The detective told me."

"Why would he do that?" Dean asked. Nikki signed something and Alex didn't look pleased with it.

"Never mind…" Alex grumbled. Suddenly they could see what looked like a red explosion from the direction Otis McDonald and the police had run in. Yelling could be heard and a few moments later a policeman walked into view. At least they thought it was a policeman.

It was hard to tell considering all of the blood he was drenched in.

The sisters watched him in shocked horror, while Sam held his nose as a new bloody smell reached them. Dean just sighed.

"And another one bites the dust…" he said.

* * *

"Right, so, the police had four suspects for the rape and murder of Tiffany Ricks," Alex said. They had returned to the same hotel as the night before (different rooms,) and sat around the table in the brothers' room. Actually they all sat around two pizza boxes, which happened to be on the table. Sam, by the way, can eat an impressive about of pizza.

"Two of them, Wilson Perkins an Otis McDonald, are dead. They both went to the cemetery, supposedly to Tiffany's grave, and blew up," Alex explained.

"You said Otis looked possessed?" Dean asked, picking a piece of pepperoni out of his teeth with his tongue at the same time. Alex nodded.

"I know a possessed person when I see one," she answered. There was a moment that everyone looked at Nikki, who was cleaning tomato sauce off her shirt.

"So is this Tiffany's work?" Sam asked.

"Of course it is," Dean said dapping a napkin in a glass of water and giving it to Nikki, "she's trying to get revenge."

"But why kill both of them? Were they both involved?"

"Maybe she doesn't know who it was," Sam suggested.

"So she just kills them all?" Alex asked. Sam and Dean nodded. Nikki signed something.

"Bret Owen and Parker Flick," Alex answered her.

"The other two suspects?" Sam asked to clarify. She nodded.

"I don't suppose you were able to flirt their addresses out of the detective?" Dean asked her. Alex glowered at him.

"No… But there's a phone book under one of the beds," Alex told him. Dean nodded and everyone looked at Sam. He looked back at them for a moment, chewing. Finally he sighed in aggravation and walked over to the beds. He bent over and checked under them for the phone book. Neither brother noticed the sisters checking out Sam's butt as he did so.

"Owen and Flick?" he asked walking back to his chair with the book in hand.

"Bret and Parker," Alex added. Dean took the last slice of pizza as Sam flipped through the yellow pages.

"Here we go. Bret Owen," Sam said and started jotting the address and phone number down on a napkin.

"So tomorrow we'll go pay these guys a visit," Dean said chewing.

"And do what? Tell them to confess? Whoever did this is looking at the death penalty."

"Then ask him to do the other guy a favor," Dean shrugged.

"I'm sure a rapist and a murderer will give the other guy a lot of consideration," Sam said. Nikki signed something.

"Yeah! What if Perkins or McDonald did it?" Alex translated.

"Would Tiffany be able to tell?" Sam asked. There was a pause as everyone thought.

Then they all looked at Nikki.

* * *

After Alex and Nikki had a good laugh at the picture of Dean on his fake FBI badge, the four entered Forest Lawn cemetery. Because the area as still off limits to anyone but law enforcement (or those pretending to be,) they had the cemetery practically all to themselves. Even though it had been thoroughly cleaned, there were still signs of blood and various other bits stuck to the trees and grass. The horrible smell was mostly gone but the memory of it lingered in the air.

"Here, this is it," Sam said as they all stopped in front of Tiffany Ricks's tombstone. There was a gloomy feeling as they looked down at the fresh mound of dirt.

"Well come on then," Alex said unfolding a blanket and laying it on the dirt. Nikki sat down on it and Alex began to tie her up. When she was finished Alex removed Nikki's teardrop necklace and stepped back to stand beside the brothers.

Nikki's head dropped and they all waited. When her head came up again, eyes black, she looked scared. It was then the brothers and Alex noticed the man standing behind her. He was looking around, like he didn't know where he was.

"Wh-what happened?" he asked himself. He looked at the four of them, and then he saw which gravestone they were all by.

"What's going on?" he demanded from them. None of them were sure, so they looked at Nikki, waiting for Tiffany to do something. She didn't get a chance. The man took a knife out of his pants pocket and kneeled down behind Nikki, holding the knife to her throat.

"Tell me what's going on!" he yelled. Dean and Sam both pulled guns and aimed at him.

"Let her go," Dean warned him.

"How'd I get here?" the man demanded. The blackness in Nikki's eyes faded back to normal. Her calm expression turned to panic as she realized what was happening.

"Just let her go and we'll explain everything," Sam told him.

"No! Tell me now!" he commanded. It was then he noticed Dean and Sam's eyes drift up to something behind him. He turned around to see a small girl standing there. Pallid and translucent, the girl, no more than seven, stared at him.

"It was you," she told him, softly and calmly. His eyes widened in terror.

"No… _No_! It's not possible!" he released Nikki and took several steps backward away from the ghost child. Alex ran to her sister, putting the teardrop back around her neck. The all watched as the girl took a step forward.

"No!" the man yelled and started to run away. The girl's composed face suddenly turned into one of great anger. The man was suddenly flung up into the air, up and over the trees, screaming the whole time. Then a loud crash was heard as he fell to the earth.

They turned back to look at the girl, but she was gone.

"What was that?" Dean asked.

"Tiffany Ricks…" Alex answered, hugging her sister tightly.

* * *

There were only two people in the world at all upset over the death of Parker Flick, Alex and Nikki Charles, and that was only because he had landed on their car. After several hours of lying to the police, the Winchester brothers and the Charles sisters found a small diner to sit in and relax. Alex was the only one who ordered alcohol, because she needed it. She sat next to her sister with her forehead against the tabletop. She didn't know how she was going to explain _another_ wrecked car.

"Just tell them someone committed suicide and landed on it," Dean suggested as he pulled out his wallet to look for a fake credit card.

"I've used that one already…" Alex said, feeling rather hopeless. Dean sighed in frustration as he threw his wallet on the table and began to dig around in his back pocket. Where did that damn card go? He didn't notice Nikki pick his wallet up and look at the pictures inside. She smiled at the pictures of two browned haired boys at various states of life, a pretty blonde haired woman, and a happy family. Nikki figured Sam was probably the baby the woman was holding, and Dean the grinning little boy with his shoelace untied. Her eyes narrowed as she took a better look at the man. She tapped Alex quickly on the shoulder.

"What?" Alex looked up at her and Dean victoriously found the lost card. Sam watched Alex look over at the pictures, expecting an onslaught of girlish squealing. Instead, Alex looked very closely at the picture, her face one of disbelief.

"Is this your dad?" she asked.

"Yeah," Dean said snatching the wallet back. Alex and Nikki looked at them in shock.

"He's not _that_ bad looking," Dean defended his father.

"We met him!" Alex declared. There was a long moment of silence.

"What!" the brothers demanded in unison.

"About two or three weeks ago. After we helped you guys," Alex said.

"Where?" they again demanded in unison.

"Colorado. Um, there was this town that had a haunting, so we stopped to get rid of it. We went to check out the graveyard and he was there. We talked to him, thinking he was a local, but he said he was just there to do some research on his family tree," she explained. The men just stared at her in quiet awe, making Alex feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Wasn't he?" she asked.

"Take us!" Dean told her, grabbing her wrist and trying to pull her out of the booth.

"Hey!" she yelled as he caused her too practically push Nikki to the diner floor.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as his brother pulled Alex toward the door. Nikki got off of the floor and Sam quickly paid the bill (he had the cash on him.) They hastily followed after their siblings.


	12. Mud Man

_**Mud Man**_

* * *

"Are you sure you know where we're going, Grandpa?" ten year old Debby Leetles asked as she walked a bit ahead of her grandfather. She bent over and picked up a stick and began stripping it of its bark. The old man grinned slightly. They went for a walk together every Sunday morning. Every week she asked the same question, and every week he answered the same way.

"I've been walking in these woods for over seventy years, little one, I know where we're going," he told her. That seemed to satisfy her, as it always did.

"Did Mom tell you she had a date on Friday? She met him in the _grocery store_, which I think is kind of weird, but Mom doesn't, so… I haven't met him yet. Mom doesn't let me meet them until the third date, you know. She wants to make sure they aren't a freak or something. But she said this guy seems nice. He came to the door to pick her up and everything. He seems kind of old to me, with gray hair and everything, but like I said, Mom said he seems nice. What do you think, Grandpa?" Debby went on. When her grandfather didn't answer she turned around.

"Grandpa?" she said, slightly worried. He was gone.

"_Grandpa_!"

* * *

By the time the black Impala was in Missouri, Dean was regretting throwing the Charles sisters and their things into his car and taking off for Colorado. In Illinois they had attempted to construct feasible instructions to the town the cemetery was near, but that has proved impossible. So, Dean now had two chicks in his back seat.

"Don't you listen to any other kind of music?" Alex masked the complaint as a question.

"Thou who driveth the car choseth the music," Dean told her. He turned his head around to look at her sitting behind Sam. "And you're never driving my car."

She made a funny face at him and he turned back to the road.

"What kind of music do you two like?" Sam asked, trying to cool the waters.

"Well I'm a Beatles fan," Alex answered. The brothers nodded in moderate approval.

"And Nikki likes Evanescence," she added.

It's a good thing the Impala was alone on the backcountry road, as Dean stopped the car.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as they were all thrown forward as the car came to a screeching halt.

"Are you insane?" Alex yelled. Dean ignored them both and turned around in his seat as far as he could.

"Get out of my car," he told Nikki. She looked at him surprised.

"You _are_ insane!" Alex told him.

"Get out of my car," he repeated.

"Dean, come on…" Sam said putting a hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to calm him down. Dean turned to him.

"No, man! _Evanescence_? Are you kidding me? She's lucky I stopped!"

"Dean, you can't leave them in the middle of no where," Sam reminded him. Dean thought about that for a moment. He glanced back at Nikki who seemed slightly afraid.

That made him feel bad.

"Alright, fine. She doesn't have to get out," Dean said reluctantly and began driving again.

"But she's _never_ driving my car," Dean stated for the record. He looked in his review mirror at Nikki.

"If you try any of the poser Goth shit I won't stop…" he warned her. Nikki looked a little worried. She was the first person wearing a Donald Duck shirt ever to be accused of being a poser Goth.

* * *

It didn't take Dean long to cool off. They stopped for lunch and Dean even offered to pay for it as some sort of apology. The sisters, who didn't know the credit cards were fake, thought it was awfully nice of him. So as they were again traveling along, it was a great surprise to everyone when Dean again pulled the Impala to a quick stop, (this time off the road.)

"What are you doing?" Sam asked as Dean got out of the car and bolted around to the trunk.

"Did you see it?" Dean's voice came back. Sam grumbled and got out of the car and followed his brother. Alex and Nikki watched curiously from within the car.

"See what?" Sam asked as Dean unlocked his arsenal. He pulled out a hunting rifle.

"A white stag, in the woods," Dean said with a sly grin on his face. Sam looked surprised and his eyes quickly searched the forest that bordered the highway.

"Really?"

"Yeah. And when you see a white stag, you gotta go after it. Everyone knows that," Dean said closing the trunk. At this point both brothers looked over to the back window at Nikki and Alex, who knew neither about white stags, or that Dean kept a hunting rifle in the trunk of his car. That was what had the women's eyes opened wide in surprise.

"Just wait here, we'll be right back," Sam reassured them as he and his brother headed toward the woods. Neither man heard Alex commenting to her sister about Dean compensating for something.

* * *

Sam and Dean were walking as quietly as they could through the woods, their eyes watching keenly for any movement.

"Are you sure you-" Sam started to question but Dean raised a hand as if he had spotted something. The gesture was misleading. Really, Dean was beginning to wonder the same thing himself, and didn't feel like listening to his brother's voice. Suddenly there was a flash of white and both brothers were racing after it.

"Over to the right!" Sam called.

"I saw it! I saw it!" Dean replied, almost upset that Sam thought he needed to be directed.

About a second later Sam came across the elusive white trash bag. He glowered at it flapping gaily about in the wind. It was not worth their time.

"Great white stag, Dean…" Sam was obviously sarcastic. He turned around, and there was no Dean.

"Dean?" he asked, slightly worried. His brother cried out and Sam ran in the direction it came from.

"Dean!" he yelled out again.

"Sam!" Dean yelled back. It sounded like something was covering his face. Finally Sam saw Dean's hand waving the hunting rifle. And that's all he saw. The rest of Dean was submerged underground. The area around him was muddy and soft, so Sam carefully approached him. He grabbed hold of the rifle with two hands and began to pull his brother out of the muck. Dean's grip on the weapon tightened. Soon Dean's muddied head appeared and he gasped for breath.

"What in the hell?" was all he managed to say breathlessly. Sam was too busy pulling to really notice.

"Get your other arms out," he said and Dean tried to pull himself loose.

"Mud is so much more fun with chicks," Dean decided now was a good time to be a wise ass. But, almost as if on cue, Alex and Nikki approached the scene. They had heard the brothers yelling and knew what sort of trouble they had probably gotten in.

"What the-?" Alex asked. At that moment Dean freed his arm from the mud and reached to grab the rifle. He grabbed the trigger.

The shot echoed through out the forest and Nikki fell to the ground.

"Nikki!" Alex screamed and fell to her sister's side. "_Nikki_!" she screamed, cradling her still sister.

"It's just a tranquilizer, she'll be fine," Dean told her, not understanding what Alex was so upset about. Alex removed the feathered dart from her sister's thigh. She smiled and hugged her sister closer.

"Jesus Dean, you gotta lose weight," Sam was still pulling.

"Just shut up and pull," Dean complained. He was only out to his stomach. Sam took a deep breath, tightened his hold on the rifle, and pulled with all of his might.

There was a great, disgusting sucking/slurping sound as Dean was pulled out of the mud and onto the firm forest floor.

The brothers sat there for a moment, not entirely sure what had happened. Finally Sam turned to his muddy brother.

"You're an idiot," he said. Dean looked back at him, the whites of his eyes the only part of him not brown. He was about to say something when there came a roaring sound from the mud pit. Frantically both men stood up and took several steps away from it. They glanced at each other.

* * *

"I hate mud creatures…" Dean complained as they walked back to the car still parked by the side of the highway. Dean was running a hand over his face and hair, trying to wipe some of the mud off. Neither Sam nor Alex paid his complaining any mind as they carried the unconscious Nikki.

"I don't believe you shot my sister," Alex complained as she moved her sister's feet under one arm and opened the door to the backseat.

"We are really sorry about that…" Sam apologized. He said 'we,' but Dean had yet to express any remorse. As Alex and Sam tried to maneuver Nikki into the back seat, Dean took off his jacket (which was probably ruined,) and threw it onto the grass. He was still covered in mud.

"I _hate_ mud creatures," he repeated, taking his boots off and throwing them next to his jacket.

"Are you sure it was a creature?" Sam asked, leaning back out of the car and standing up straight.

"Something more that gravity was pulling me down," Dean replied as Sam closed the back door. Alex was inside buckling her and Nikki in.

"That groan did sound rather ominous," Sam nodded.

"Get me some clothes from the back?" Dean asked. Sam went to do so.

"We should do a check for people disappearing around these woods," Dean suggested taking his T-shirt off.

"It must be a relatively young creature, if it couldn't keep a hold of you," Sam said, rummaging through Dean's duffel bag of clothes.

"Maybe it just hasn't eaten in a while," Dean thought. He undid his belt and began to unbutton his pants when he noticed Alex watching him from the car. He grinned sarcastically at her (yes, Dean can do that,) and motioned with his hand for her to turn around. She frowned but did so.

"Well it doesn't matter," Sam said closing the trunk with clothes in hand. He stood to block Dean from oncoming traffic. "We still have to kill it."

* * *

Nikki awoke with the headache to end all headaches. Clutching the painful body part she slowly sat up. She looked around to find herself alone in a hotel room. She didn't see any of their bags anywhere, which disappointed her. Alex had ibuprofen in her bag, and Nikki could seriously use the entire bottle right about now. She was trying to think of the last thing she could remember when Dean emerged from the bathroom. He was dressed in another set of clean clothes and rubbing a towel on his head. Rose smelling steam emerged from the bathroom with him.

"Oh, hey," he said, noticing she was sitting up. The sound of his voice made her head hurt even more. She grabbed a pillow, laid on her side, and put it over her head. She could still hear the hotel door opening and Sam enter with her sister.

"The library was closed" Sam said as Alex sat on the bed with Nikki.

"Closed? Why?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

"They're redecorating," Alex answered, handing her sister a pill bottle and a bottle of water. Nikki took both eagerly.

"And nothing came up online?" Dean wanted to make sure. Sam nodded. They'd already gone over that.

"Maybe you two should go the police station and ask some questions," Alex suggested. Dean turned sharply to her.

"Well thank you Jessica Fletcher!" he told her. The other three looked at him for a moment, surprised by his sudden outburst. He sighed and walked back into the bathroom to clean some more mud out of his ears.

"What's got his panties in a twist?" Alex asked.

Sam didn't know.

* * *

Regardless of Dean's mood, the Winchester brothers grabbed their FBI IDs and headed for the local police station. Dean parked the Chevy Impala (which is far from being FBI issue,) and the two men walked into the small station. It looked much like every other police station they had been to. A few desks, some outdated computers, a WANTED board. This station even had a sleeping deputy with his feet up on his desk and powdered sugar all down the front of his uniform. Needless to say he did not notice them. Sitting on the front desk was a small bell and Sam tapped it with his hand.

The brothers watched the deputy expectantly. He snored but made no signs of consciousness, so Sam hit the bell again.

And again.

And again.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," a woman's voice came from one of the rooms off from the main area. Soon a stout woman walked out, wearing a sheriff's badge. First she noticed Sam and Dean and eyed them rather suspiciously, but then she saw her sleeping deputy. She scoffed and ran a hand through her hair. It was obvious she wasn't getting paid enough to put up with this.

"Can I help you?" she asked approaching the front desk.

"I hope so," Dean smiled at her, even though she was a good twenty years older than him. Sam saw the smile and decided to jump in.

"We were wondering about people who've disappeared in the woods, especially along the highway," he told her, raising his fake FBI ID as he did so. She seemed rather impressed by it.

"You mean Old Ma-" she cleared her throat, "You mean Mr. Parkinson?"

"Uh, yeah. We were sent down here to investigate his disappearance," Dean lied. The sheriff shrugged.

"Nothing much to it. He went for a walk with his granddaughter, got away from her and got lost," she said simply.

"And when was this?" Sam asked. She looked a little suspicious but answered.

"Last week."

"How active is the search?"

"It's just Ray and Sparky…" she confessed.

"Shouldn't there be more than two people looking for him?" Dean asked, not knowing Sparky was a German Shepherd. The sheriff looked at him as if she had been debating the subject with herself for a lifetime.

"A ninety year old man lost in the woods for a week? We aren't considering this a 'rescue mission' anymore," she explained.

Both brothers thought it was unlikely Mr. Parkinson had any time to be rescued.

* * *

Sam and Dean picked up a meal on their way back to the hotel. The sun was beginning to set and turned everything a very non-masculine shade of pink. But Sam thought it was pretty, and gave him a sense of peace, which was a nice change. All Dean knew was the sun was now in his eyes.

When they entered the hotel room they found Nikki laying face down on one bed and Alex sitting on the other, reading. Alex saw them enter and smiled. She stood up, dog-eared her book and walked over to them, eyeing the food bag.

"What are you reading?" Sam asked. She held it up so they could both see the cover.

"Tess of the d'Urbervilles," she answered. Both brothers nodding approvingly.

"Nice," Dean said, and the other two stared at him in surprise.

"You know Thomas Hardy?" Sam asked him.

"Who's Thomas Hardy?" Dean asked. Sam and Alex looked at him for a moment more before turning to each other.

"So how far along are you?" Sam asked her.

"They just got married," she answered excitedly. And with that, Dean was bored. He noticed Nikki lying on the bed and took a step closer to it.

"You still have a headache?" he asked her. She slowly turned to face him, giving him what Dean could only describe as 'the look.'

"Oh, you don't wanna talk to her," Alex warned him. Dean was beginning to realize that.

"Headache?" he asked Alex instead.

"No, that's gone. She's just moved on to being really pissed that you shot her," she explained. There was an awkward moment where Sam cleared his throat.

"We brought food," he said raising the bag. Both sisters lit up.

* * *

"So what exactly is a mud man?" Alex asked, wiping something off her face with a napkin. The four were eating the roasted bits of chicken the brothers had been able to pick up from a fast food joint. It was surprising good considering how little of it was actually chicken.

"Generally a spirit of someone who died because of mud," Sam began, "got caught in a mudslide, something like that. The spirit and mud become one, and after awhile they need to kill to sustain themselves, to grow stronger."

"Kind of a messy vampire?" Alex asked. Dean scoffed and received three dirty looks.

"Something like that…" Sam answered. Nikki signed something.

"How do you get rid of it?" Alex translated, "well with water balloons, naturally."

Alex chuckled slightly and Nikki grinned. The brothers both became very interested in their chicken.

"I was only kidding, guys," Alex said, noticing their attention changing. They kept looking at their chicken.

"Wasn't I?" Alex asked, a little concerned. Sam finally sighed.

"_Salt_water balloons," he corrected her.

"You're kidding me!" Alex exclaimed.

"Did that sound funny to you?" Dean asked her. She shrugged.

"I just thought there'd be more to it than that. Chanting, or wooden stakes, or something," she explained. Dean scoffed again and the other three ignored him.

"Well, you have to hit it's true form, not just the mud it uses," Sam told her.

"What's its true form?"

"Your classic mud creature image. Humanoid… mucky…" he answered. The sisters nodded in understanding.

"When are you guys going to go after it?"

"You aren't even going to offer to help?" Dean asked her accusingly.

"Why? Everyone here knows we'd only get in the way," Alex defended herself.

"You still could have offered!" Dean's voice rose slightly.

"It would have been useless" Alex's voice rose too.

"It would have been polite!"

"What do you know about being polite?"

"More than you, apparently!" Dean yelled back. Alex was about retort when Sam grabbed his brother's shirt and rather calmly pulled him out of the room. Nikki offered her sister a piece of cornbread.

* * *

Once out of the room, Sam walked Dean a little down the hallway and let go off him. Dean took a step away indignantly, even though he had made no complaints about being ushered out of the room. A part of him knew that he had been out of line.

"What's a matter with you?" Sam asked in a whisper, not wanting to disturb any other hotel guests.

"Nothing," Dean obviously lied. Sam glowered at him.

"You don't really think I believe that…" he said. Dean sighed. He had kind of hoped Sam would.

"It's nothing I want to talk about…" Dean didn't lie this time, and Sam could tell.

"Well just stop taking it out on the girls," Sam told him. Neither Nikki nor Alex would have liked being referred to as 'the girls.'

"I haven't been!"

"Then what do you call what just happened in there?" Sam twisted his arm around to point in the general direction of the room.

"She just pissed me off."

"Because she didn't want to come fight mud monsters with us?" Sam asked. Dean fell silent, sort of embarrassed. It was sort of a silly reason to get mad at someone. And Alex had been right; he wouldn't have let them come along anyway.

"I'm not apologizing…" Dean told him. Sam nodded, not expecting that in his wildest dreams.

"Just don't shoot Nikki again and it'll be fine," he said and they walked back to the room.

* * *

Dean went out and bought a package of balloons and some extra salt. The fresh night air did his spirit some good and by the time he returned to the hotel he was ready to get to work. He put salt into the balloons, Sam would fill them with water, Alex would tie them, and Nikki shook them and set them in a cardboard box. It was rather effective and within an hour they had 39 made. They would have had 40 but Nikki dropped one.

* * *

Rather early the next morning, Sam and Dean were trudging around the woods. Each packed almost equally with water balloons; they were trying to find the spot of so much action the day before.

"My back is beginning to hurt…" Dean complained. Indeed, Dean had underestimated the weight of nineteen water balloons (and one pistol Sam didn't know about,) and it was beginning to pull at his back. Sam's pack was getting to him too, but he was trying not to think about it.

"We're almost there," Sam tried to reassure his brother.

"Yeah well, we better be…" Dean said as he stepped around a pile of deer scat. There were a few more minutes as the brothers walked along, keeping an eye out for large puddles of mud.

Suddenly, Sam saw something small and pink on the ground. With little ease he bent over and picked it up. Upon inspection he smiled. He turned around and showed the discarded tranquilizer dart to his brother.

"We're here," he said. Dean smiled too.

"Let's lure this baby out," he raised his eyes suggestively.

* * *

Due to a pure lack of forethought, the current plan for luring the creature from its muddy depths consisted of Sam waving his right foot over the puddle. Dean did have a hold of his brother (mostly for balance,) and both Winchesters had saltwater balloons in hand.

"There's got to be a better way to do this," Sam said. It wasn't so much that he minded being the bait, it's just he knew he was going to come out of this with only one shoe.

"If you have a better plan feel free to share," Dean told him. Sam didn't have time to think of one. A familiar loud roar came up from the mud pit. A cute fluffy squirrel that had been watching the brothers quickly scattered off.

"I think we're good," Sam said, beginning to retract his foot.

"Not until we see it," Dean instructed. Sam rolled his eyes but was nice enough to keep his foot out there.

Unfortunately, however, a hand did breach the mucky surface. It is unfortunate because the hand grabbed Sam's _left_ ankle, and pulled.

Sam fell back onto Dean who fell to the ground, both brothers dropping their balloons.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he was being pulled into the pit. Dean lurched forward and locked his arms with his brother's and dug his heels into the solid earth.

"I got you Sammy!" Dean reassured him as he tried to keep them both from being pulled in. Sam, who had been trying to avoid looking at the mud pit he was half in, looked now. He felt something almost like hands climbing up his legs. A moment later both brothers watched a muddy, slimy hand grab at Sam's shirt. They both knew what was coming, and they both knew if they were going to do something about it, they'd have to let go of each other.

"Dean," Sam said as a muddy face surfaced. It looked like one giant ball of mud with indentations for eyes and a gapping mouth.

"_Dean_…" Sam repeated, a little bit more urgently, this time.

"I'm not going to let you go, Sam," Dean told him. It would have been a very sweet moment between the brothers, if there wasn't a creepy mud monster trying to eat one of them.

"Well then get me the hell out of here!" Sam offered a second plan. The idea that Dean had not been trying to do such almost made him let go of his brother. It was at that moment the mud creature reached out one filthy hand and grabbed Sam's pack.

It was a glorious day for shoddy craftsmanship.

Under the pull of the mud man, the seams of Sam's pack tore and 19 saltwater balloons rolled into the mud. The creature, still human enough to be confused, reached one hand and grasped one.

It burst.

A horrific roar rattled the trees as the monster retracted back partly into the mud. Not back enough to disappeared, but back enough to let go of Sam. Once the younger Winchester was on solid earth, Dean removed his pistol and shot at the remaining balloons. Soon the mud puddle was filled with saltwater (and colorful bits of rubber.) The creature continued to roar as Sam took more balloons from his brother's pack and threw them into the pit.

There was one last roar before the ghastly mud face and all of the surrounding mud turned to stone.

Dean and Sam walked back to the car, the latter muddy and missing one shoe.

* * *

Late that night as the Impala crossed the Missouri/Kansas border, Dean glanced in the rearview mirror at the two sleeping Charles sisters. Ever since Nikki was shot, Dean noticed, Alex had been keeping extra close to her. It was evident, now, as the elder sister held the younger as if she were a teddy bear. Dean must have been getting tired as he thought of it as being a rather sweet scene instead of a sexy one. He glanced over at his brother, who was pretending to be asleep. Sam did that sometimes, to make Dean feel better.

"Do you know what yesterday was?" Dean asked him, turning back to the road. It took Sam a moment to realize Dean was talking to him.

"Um, Tuesday?" he asked, confused.

"Mom and Dad's 28th," Dean corrected him, though it _had_ been a Tuesday. Sam narrowed his eyes, still confused.

"28th what?"

"Anniversary. They would have been married 28 years yesterday," Dean explained. Sam looked over at his brother.

"Is that why you were," he paused to think of the right word, "grouchy?"

Dean snorted slightly, but not angrily.

"Yeah, I guess so. Sorry…" he said. Sam decided to believe it was a sincere apology.

"I bet Mom looked nice in her wedding dress," Sam thought.

"Dad never showed you the pictures?"

"No, he didn't…"

"It was a nice dress. He said it took Mom two months to pick out the right one. She kept changing her mind," Dean said. He continued to tell Sam about their parents' wedding. That is, of course, until they started to laugh and woke Alex up.


	13. The Camera

_**The Camera**_

* * *

"This is just craptastic," Maggie Brewer told her identical 13 year old twin sister. Donna frowned at her.

"We wouldn't have to clean the attic if you hadn't put that frog under Mrs. Irving…" she said, opening up an old box. She blew into it and a cloud of dust came out. They both coughed for a moment.

"It wasn't a _real_ frog," Maggie defended herself.

"And then you compounded the situation by telling her _I_ did it, forcing Mom to make us _both_ clean the attic," Donna complained. Really, that was what pissed their mother off the most. 13 years and she still couldn't tell the girls apart. Maggie snorted.

"'Compounded the situation.' You sound like Dr. Phil…" she said. Donna sneered at her.

"Hey, look at this," Donna said pulling a camera out of her box.

"What the heck is that thing?" Maggie asked, leaning away as if it were about to come to life and attack her.

"I think it's one of those old Polaroid instant cameras," Donna said. She looked through the eyepiece and aimed it at her sister. Maggie put her hands behind her head and posed.

Donna took the picture.

* * *

It was almost four in the morning when Dean and Sam gave up trying to teach Alex and Nikki how to play poker. Actually, that was when they gave up trying to teach Alex how to play, as Nikki had gone to bed at midnight like a sensible person. For the first time on their little road trip, the Winchester brothers and Charles sisters shared a room. The sisters shared one of the beds while Dean and Sam flipped for the other one.

It was about nine when Dean felt the tapping on his shoulder. He looked up from his makeshift bed on the floor at Nikki who was holding the cell phone down to him.

"It's some lady asking for you," Alex's voice said, sounding very tired. Dean frowned and took the phone.

"Another one of my girlfriends," he told Nikki. She just scratched her head and fell back asleep.

"Hello?" he said into the phone.

"Oh, hello. Is this Dean Winchester?" a cute female voice asked. Dean managed to sit up.

"Yeah, who is this?"

"Oh, I'm Lisa Brewer, and, well, it's back," she told him. Nothing about that sentence made any sense to him.

"What is?" he asked.

"The camera. Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot, you were only about ten or something… Well look, like, 15 years ago or something, your father helped me and my husband out with something and now it's back and we need your help," she told him. Dean sighed and wiped a hand down his face. It was too early for this.

"Where are you?" he asked, not entirely sure why he didn't just blow her off. They had places to go.

"Southern Nebraska, I can give you a more complete address," she answered. Dean made a visual map of the US in his head and tried to find Nebraska. It was just above them. He was pretty sure it was, anyhow.

"Um, yeah, sure, why don't you give me that address," Dean said looking around for a piece of paper and a pen.

* * *

By eleven the four of them were on the road heading north. Dean and Nikki were the only ones awake, and Dean only because he was driving. So it was generally a very boring, quiet ride. Dean didn't even feel like turning on the music, mostly because Alex would hit him if he did so. He often regretted paying attention to his father who taught them hitting a non-possessed girl was wrong.

He really felt like smacking Alex sometimes.

Sam let out a loud, earth-shaking snore. Dean laughed at him slightly because he didn't know his brother could physically make such a sound. He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Nikki grinning in Sam's direction.

It was an unusual time for him to feel sorry for her. But something about the idea of her not even being able to laugh struck a chord with him.

"So," he said into the rearview mirror, "being mute, that kind of sucks, huh?"

She looked at him and shrugged, nodding her head.

* * *

The home of Lisa Brewer and her daughters looked pretty typical. Two stories, attic, large porch, green front lawn, it even had a minivan in the driveway. Sam, Alex, and Nikki, who all had an inner desire for such a life, smiled as they looked over the quaint little scene. Dean, who had only seen one episode of _Leave it to Beaver_ and hated it, looked at the house with a slight feeling of disgust.

He swore he could smell apple pie baking somewhere.

"Oh, look, they even have matching pink bicycles," Alex practically squealed and clutched her sister's arm. Owning matching bicycles had always been one of the Charles sisters' stranger ambitions, mostly because neither knew how to ride.

"Why don't you two just wait in the car…" Dean suggested. He was not a fan of squealing women.

"Can we listen to the radio?" Alex asked.

* * *

A few moments later all four were standing on the porch, waiting for the doorbell to be answered. Sam and Dean stood mainly in front of the door, almost completely hiding the two female figures behind them. This was not intentional; it was just the way they always stood in front of a door waiting to be opened. All of this is important because when Maggie Brewer opened the door, she saw only the brothers, and her mouth gaped open accordingly.

"Um," Sam said after a moment, "is your mother home?"

Maggie made some odd noises, still staring at them in shock.

"Maggie? Maggie who is it?" a middle aged blonde woman said walking up behind her daughter. She eyed the brothers. "May I help you?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm Dean Winchester. Are you Li-?" Dean started to ask but the woman cut him off.

"Oh! Come in! Come on! In! In! In!" Lisa Brewer practically exploded and pulled all four of them one by one into the house past her and Maggie. It was at this moment the 13-year-old noticed Alex and Nikki for the first time.

It was not a discovery she seemed to enjoy.

"You said something about a camera on the phone?" Dean said as he and Sam took a seat on a comfy sofa. Alex and Nikki took near by chairs. Sitting on the coffee table between Lisa and the brothers was a camera. Maggie sat by her mother's side, staring adoringly at Sam and Dean. Mostly Sam, who did notice.

"Yes, um, that," Lisa motioned to the camera between them, "several years ago your father helped us with it. We put it in a place we thought no one would find it," she told Dean, not knowing Sam was a Winchester as well. The sisters she was almost ignoring altogether, which was just fine by them, as both Alex and Nikki felt like they were just there to watch the 'masters' at work.

"And someone found it?" Sam wanted to clarify. Lisa nodded and placed an arm around Maggie's shoulders.

"What's it do?" Dean asked.

"Oh, um, well, it…" it was understandable that the woman didn't quite know how to explain it, "well here."

Lisa reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out a picture. She glanced briefly at it, and gave it to them, looking awfully forlorn. Dean took the picture and they both looked at it.

It was of Maggie, the age she was now, in the clothes she was in now, but she was lying on the floor. She looked pale except for the marks around her neck.

"Those look like ligature marks…" Sam said softly to his brother. Dean nodded, reminding himself to look up the word 'ligature' next time he came across a dictionary.

"I look totally dead, don't I?" Maggie asked them. She didn't seem frightened by the picture, it was almost as if she thought it was interesting.

"When was this taken?" Sam asked Lisa.

"Yesterday, while the girls were cleaning the attic," she said, obviously feeling guilty and more than a little frightened.

"Did your sister or friend take this picture?" Sam asked. Maggie smiled at him a blushed slightly.

"Donna did. DONNA!" Maggie yelled, causing the other five in the room to recoil.

"You sound like a harpy Mags," Donna said walking into the living room from the kitchen behind Maggie and Lisa. She stopped silent when she saw Dean and Sam.

"Oh, you two are twins," Dean said. Donna's eyes widened as she slumped down on the armrest next to her sister, her eyes fixed on Dean.

"They're three minutes apart," Lisa explained. It was her usual reaction to someone commenting on her daughters.

"I'm older," Donna said raising her hand slightly.

"Oh so what? You'll be an old biddy sooner than me," Maggie told her.

"You've just always been jealous," Donna bickered back.

"Hey, girls, girls…" Dean said putting his hands up to quiet them. At the sound of his voice they both became silent.

"Fifteen years ago your father came and helped my husband and I when we found this thing. He wasn't sure of what really to do, and after Marty died…" Lisa fell into a sad silence for a moment, "we hid it in some old boxes up in the attic."

"This thing killed Uncle Marty?" Maggie asked. Lisa nodded.

"Where's your husband now, Mrs. Brewer?" Sam asked her. Her shoulders fell and she looked away from them. One of Maggie's hands moved instinctively to her mother's.

"Robert died a few years ago, cancer," she admitted. The brothers leaned back against the couch. That probably wasn't the camera's fault.

"I called you because, I was hoping that after so many years, you might have figured out to keep it from happening," Lisa almost pleaded with them.

"Well, we'll do everything we can," Dean reassured her.

"I know you will," Donna sighed.

* * *

"That was funny as hell…" Alex said laughing as she, Nikki and Dean made their way back to the car. Sam was standing on the porch, giving Lisa some more reassurance.

"What was?" Dean asked, not seeing anything funny about a camera that kills people, one that he just happened to be carrying.

"Those girls! 'I know you will,'" Alex mimicked Donna and made kissing faces at Dean. He shrugged it off.

"It's just a silly crush," he told them, "like how I felt for Sam."

The sisters looked at each other, but Dean didn't notice. He sighed, remembering.

"Man that was a hell of a crush. And it wasn't just physical, either," he told them.

Alex and Nikki considered grabbing their things and running for the hills.

"That's kind of…" Alex tried to think of the right word, "_disgusting_, Dean…"

He looked at her confused before his eyes widened in surprise.

"No! No, no, no! Not _that_ Sam!" he said pointing to his brother who was finishing up a conversation with Lisa, "_Samantha_. A girl named Sam!"

The sisters relaxed and Alex chuckled slightly.

"Oh, good. For a moment there I thought we were back in Alabama," she said. Nikki, not finding the joke funny, elbowed her sister in the side.

"Hey," Sam said approaching them.

"Did she remember?" Dean asked.

"Remember what?" Alex asked.

"No, but she said she'd try to remember."

"Remember what?" Alex repeated.

"You'd think after all they went through, she'd remember that."

"Remember what?"

"Some things aren't as easy to remember as you'd think."

"Remember what?"

"She should remember this."

"_Remember what_?" Alex asked again, grabbing Dean by the lapels and pulling him closer. Despite his superior strength and fighting skill, Dean was a little afraid of her.

"Where she bought the camera," he answered. She nodded and let him go, taking a step back. Dean brought his shoulders up and straightened the collar of his jacket. Nikki signed something and Alex translated.

"Shouldn't you be more concerned about the girl?"

"Sometimes knowing the history of the camera can help," Sam answered, not sure if he should look at Alex or Nikki.

"Dean! Dean! Oh! Sam!" Lisa called as she came jogging down the steps of her home and across the street to them.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"I just remembered! Robert said he bought it at an old antique store in town," she explained.

"That's great, what's it called?" Sam asked reaching into his back pocket for a pad of paper and a pen, (which, by the way, left a nasty ink stain on the inside of his pocket.)

"It was called Watterson Antiques," she answered. Sam began to write, "but it burned down seven years ago…"

Sam put the paper and pen away.

"But does that really matter? You can still help Maggie, can't you? She's my baby…" the woman began to tear up. Almost absent-mindedly Nikki reached out a hand and rubbed the woman's back in comfort.

"Like I said, we'll do everything we can," Dean gave her a confident nod.

* * *

"A little more to the left," Sam told his brother. Dean took a few steps away from his Impala. Sam, who was looking through the camera lens at Dean, nodded.

"Yeah, there's good," Sam said.

"The car's not in the shot, is it?" Dean asked to make sure. Sam made a displeased face.

"No, and there isn't anyone behind you, either!" he told him. Dean was standing by the roadside; a park with a large tree was behind him. He looked as awkward and uncomfortable as most people do when someone is looking through a camera at them, especially a camera that kills people.

"Would someone please explain the logic of this to me?" Alex asked from behind Sam.

"If we can destroy a picture of Dean then we came destroy the picture of Maggie," Sam explained.

"And what if you can't?" Alex actually translated for Nikki, but since they were behind Sam he didn't know it.

"Then I get his car," Sam said with a straight face.

Dean frowned and Sam took the picture.

* * *

While there is usually some sense of anticipation in waiting for a picture to develop, this particular photograph created a great sense of urgency as four pair of eyes eagerly awaited to see what would appear. Sam held the picture in his hand with Dean standing beside him. The Charles sisters pushed and shoved each other for a better look over the men's shoulders, both wondering why the Winchester brothers had to be so damn tall.

"Sam, I'll probably never say this again," Dean warned, "but shake it like a Polaroid picture, man."

"That's not actually a good thing to do. It messes with the chemicals."

"Really?" Dean and Alex asked in unison. Nikki would have chimed in if she could have.

"Yeah. You can make it all blotchy and really mess it up," Sam explained.

"Wow, I never knew that…" Alex said.

"Why do _you_?" Dean asked his brother. Sam shrugged. He didn't understand why he knew half of what he did. But, the picture had developed.

It was of Dean, sure enough, he was dressed exactly as he was now, but instead of standing in a park, he was lying down.

"Is he dead or sleeping?" Alex asked. The brothers leaned in closer to it.

"He looks like he's sleeping."

"But I'm probably dead," Dean said rather nonchalantly.

"I wonder what happened…" Alex mused.

"I'd rather not find out," Dean said taking the picture from his brother. He held it up away from everyone and pulled out a cheap green lighter. After two tries it finally lit and he held it under a corner of the photo.

A minute later the picture was still intact.

"Well, burning is out," Dean said, putting the lighter back. Sam walked over to the car and leaned in through the window. He walked back over with a cylinder of salt. Dean held the picture flat and Sam sprinkled on some salt. There was a sizzling sound and some smoke, but soon the salt was all gone and the picture was unchanged. Sam reached back into the car and pulled out small bottle of holy water. He sprinkled that on and it did nothing but get Dean's hand a little wet.

"Should we try a cross?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head and wiped his wet hand off on his pants.

"If the holy water didn't work the cross won't," he said.

"So you're just going to give up?" Alex asked. The brothers turned to her indignantly.

"What part of 'we give up and I die' don't you understand?" Dean asked her. She shrugged.

"Maybe we should take this apart?" Sam held the camera up. Dean shrugged.

"Worth a try."

"Can we see the photo?" Alex asked. Dean handed it to her and the brothers began looking the camera over. The sisters looked closely at the picture, trying to see if they could determine what killed Dean. He looked surprisingly calm in it.

"Maybe he's drunk," Alex suggested. Nikki shrugged. Dean turned around to frown at them when he noticed something that gave him an idea. To the other three, it seemed as if Dean was staring intently at Nikki's chest, and if he hadn't spoken in a moment Alex would have whacked him.

"Nikki, you're necklace, there's some special crap about it, right?" he asked. Her hand instinctively went to it.

"You're not using it…" Alex warned him, and damn if she didn't look serious about it.

"It's just for a second," Dean said as a distraction. His words distracted Alex and Nikki long enough for him to plant the photograph picture side down on Nikki's teardrop pendant. He took it back before Alex could complain and looked down at the photo.

There was a single, glowing tear on it.

But, before Dean even had time to grin, the tear sizzled away and the picture was left unaltered.

"Dammit," Dean said and sighed. Sam, who had suspected Nikki's necklace to have no effect, had already gotten out their father's journal and was flipping through it. There was mention of the camera and a list of several things that had been used against it with no avail.

Nothing else.

"Dad's not helping us on this one," Sam shrugged and threw the journal back into the car.

"Then I guess we take the camera apart."

* * *

An hour later the four were an interesting sight for the people who passed by. Sam, Nikki, and Alex stood in an arc several feet away from the camera, which was lying on the ground. Dean, cracking his knuckles, gripped tightly around the handle of a sledgehammer.

All previous attempts to get inside of the camera had failed, and two screwdrivers had been ruined in the process. So, Dean figured he'd try to smash the thing open.

"I suppose dynamite will be next if this doesn't work," Alex said softly. Sam, who wasn't entirely sure if he approved of the sledgehammer plan, sighed.

"We might try shooting it before we move onto explosives," he hated that he had to say things like that in all seriousness.

"Ready?" Dean asked, hoisting the sledgehammer onto his shoulder. The three shrugged as a sign that they were. So Dean took a deep breath, and heaved the hammer onto the camera.

To Dean's credit, he managed to hit it straight on. But regardless, the camera shot out away from him across the blacktop and straight for the three spectators. Sam and Alex cried out as all three leapt out of the way of the runaway camera. Dean swore and all four walked cautiously over to the base of a tree where the camera had stopped.

Wordlessly Sam took out a handgun and shot it. The bullet just fell to the camera's side.

"I'll get the C4," Dean sighed and walked back toward the car.

* * *

Sam and Dean sat in the Brewer living room glaring at the camera and two photos that sat on the coffee table between them. They sat there in silence, both trying to think of anything else they could do to that camera. Nikki, who had stayed down in the living room with them to watch an unsuccessful exorcism, was now growing bored. Lisa and Donna were in the kitchen doing some sort of cute mother/daughter things while Maggie was upstairs being watched by Alex.

Nikki decided to give her sister some time off and went upstairs to take a shift. The room that Maggie and Donna slept in was at the end of the hallway, its light the main source of illumination for Nikki to see by. There was a streak of light seeping out from the crack along the bottom of the closed bathroom door, and as Nikki passed it she could hear Alex complaining to herself inside.

Grinning at her sister's antics, Nikki pushed open the door to Maggie's room.

* * *

A shrill whistle ringing throughout the house suddenly shattered the silence downstairs. Sam and Dean jumped up and quickly dashed up the stairs, Lisa and Donna behind them. They passed the bathroom door just in time for Alex to come stumbling out. The whistling stopped at the brothers sped past Alex and into the room at the end of the hall. Inside they found Maggie lying on the floor, Nikki kneeling over her, obviously trying to get her to breathe. Sam bent down next to her at Maggie's side, ready to push against the girl's chest. Dean took out a cell phone and dialed 911.

"What happened?" he asked Alex. She shrugged, watching Nikki and Sam trying to bring air back into Maggie.

* * *

As Maggie sped off in the back of an ambulance with Lisa and Donna at her side, Dean and Sam watched from the street. They had been able to get Maggie breathing again, but she still had to be taken to the hospital. The only flaw in the paramedics ability to help Maggie was Nikki, when they asked her what had happened. It is difficult to sign quickly and legibly, especially in such urgent situations. It took several important minutes for Alex to be able to translate.

But when she was able to, it was learned that Maggie had been sitting on her top bunk, playing with her mother's scarves. She had laid down and rolled over, accidentally going over the side of the bed. The scarf had caught and Maggie was unable to get a hold of anything to keep it from closing around her windpipe.

That was when Nikki found her.

"She'll be okay, right?" Alex asked. Although it wasn't entirely apparent, Alex had a soft spot for children.

"She was still having some trouble breathing, but I don't think it's anything the doctors can't handle," Sam reassured her. Dean looked down at the picture of Maggie that had been taken the night before.

It was how she looked on the bedroom floor.

He then looked over at the picture of him and frowned.

"What do you think about this camera not being dangerous?" he asked suddenly. The other three looked at him, the sound of the ambulance's siren still within hearing range.

"Look what it did to Maggie!" Alex exclaimed.

"How do we know the camera did that?" Dean questioned. Sam's face lit up as he understood.

"Maybe the camera just shows what will happen, instead of making it happen…" he thought out loud. Dean nodded. They were on the same proverbial page.

"You mean you really might just be asleep in that picture?" Alex asked and Nikki expressed with her hands. Dean and Sam shrugged in unison.

"Maybe. One way to find out," Dean said tapping Sam slightly on the shoulder and stepping away from them. Sam, understanding his brother exactly, raised the camera and snapped a picture.

"Are you nuts!" Alex exclaimed as Sam pulled the photo gently from the camera. It was a question she was beginning to find herself asking quite frequently.

"It's not going to kill me twice," Dean said stepping up to his brother's side to wait for the picture to develop.

It did soon enough, and looking up at them was a photograph of Dean, with a very obvious bullet hole in his chest.

There was a moment were everyone thought about what exactly that meant.

"Let's get a drink," Dean said suddenly and walked back to the car.

* * *

They managed to find a bar rather quickly. The brothers ordered beer (Sam having to show ID,) and the sisters just ordered water. Sam offered to pay for whatever they wanted, but the women said they were fine.

"What do you mean you guys don't drink?" Dean asked, surprised and a little confused. He had never met anyone who didn't drink alcohol if they were able.

"Our mother was killed by a drunk driver, idiot, of _course_ we don't drink!" Alex exclaimed, not liking the judgmental expression that had come over Dean's face. Dean turned away from her, and both brothers thought that made quite a bit of sense.

Half an hour later Dean had joined some men around a card table. Sam was watching from the bar, picking up on the players' various tells. One man bit his lip, another tapped his pinky on the table, and a third wrinkled his nose. It was impossible to tell from that angle, but Sam was sure his brother had no tells. Beside him at the bar Alex and Nikki were doing what many bored people do, they were playing rock-paper-scissors.

"Hah!" Alex said as her rock beat Nikki's scissors. She even raised her hands in the air as a sign of victory.

After that things seemed to move rather quickly as they tend to do during times of importance. It started with one man at Dean's card table accusing another of cheating. This quickly evolved into a loud argument, causing Dean and the others trying to calm the other two down.

And that, turned into the accuser taking out a gun, and firing with a drunken aim.

While his shot may not have been on target, it was just as effective. The bitter 'boom' silenced the bar, all eyes on the fallen man. It was almost without thought that Sam raced forward, followed by the Charles sisters. Sam got to the shooter, pushed the gun into the air and tried to pull it away. The man gave in without protest, just as shocked by his actions as every one else. With the gun no longer a danger, Sam turned around to the floor.

He saw the photograph. Dean was laying stomach up on the floor, a bullet hole in his chest and a misplaced calm on his face. The picture was only there for a moment before the back of Nikki's head hid Dean. She was holding one of his hands tightly in hers and holding the side of his face in her other palm, trying to comfort him. Alex was behind her and tore Dean's shirt straight through from the bottom up.

"Son of a bitch!" she yelled out angrily. This seemed to pull Sam from his momentary daze and he walked urgently up behind her.

"What is it?" he asked. Before she could answer Sam had a clear view of his brother's chest.

What should have been Dean's flesh was instead a black vest.

"He's wearing a damn bulletproof vest!" Alex said. It was not possible to hear her relief through her complaining, but it was there. As if on cue Dean seemed to come back to life. He began to cough and Nikki helped him to sit up and rubbed his back, because anyone who just took a gunshot to the chest deserves to get his or her back rubbed. At this Sam finally let out the breath he had apparently been holding.

"Owww…" was all Dean was able to say.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked him, sounding a little upset at the near loss of his brother. Dean's hand went to his chest, almost as if he himself expected to find blood.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he said with some difficulty. Being shot will always hurt, Kevlar or not. He looked over at Nikki and Alex, both of whom were still kneeling at his side.

"What do you want?" he asked them, not realizing they had actually been concerned for his well-being. Alex glared at him, upset at his excellent foresight.

* * *

Sure enough, Maggie Brewer was alright and would be ready to return home in a day or two. Her mother thanked and hugged both the Winchesters and the Charles' several times, almost in tears at how glad she was to have her daughter safe. Sam and Dean had tried to explain to her that the camera might not be harmful, but they ended up taking it with them anyway.

So once again the four were on the road, driving down in Colorado with some hope of what they'd find there. Sam finished writing some notes down in their father's journal and closed it. Bending over to put the book underneath his seat he sat back up with the camera in his hands. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he turned around in his seat and snapped a picture of Nikki.

"What the hell?" Alex asked, expressing everyone's thoughts. There was an eager, confused silence as they waited for the picture to develop.

Finally it did. It was of Nikki, sure enough, sitting in the back of the Impala looking calmly out the window. She seemed perfectly fine in it, a little bored, but safe and healthy. Sam smiled and showed it to the sisters before holding it in front of Dean.

"Relax, she's fine," Dean ordered Alex, whose feathers would have been ruffled if she had any.

"She'd better be…" Alex pouted.

"Hey, Sam, take one of me," Dean suggested. He gave a fake smile and posed in a way similar to the one Maggie had taken in the attic. Sam sighed but raised the camera and clicked the shutter. The camera made several odd noises and Sam looked down at it.

"Oh, it's out of film…" he said. Dean clicked his tongue angrily and Alex laughed.


	14. The Beast: part 3

_**The Beast: part 3**_

* * *

The forest was dark and silent now. There was a full moon out, but that wasn't important. The fire was gone and the ashes had been salted and buried. All of the hunters had gone home to get a good night's sleep, proud of what they'd accomplished. A witch's grave did not merit marking, but for now it was still visible as a fresh mound of dirt.

A man walked over to it, looking down with a sly grin on his face. His amusement alone revealed his wicked nature.

"Poor child," he spoke down to the grave in a voice that seemed to cut through the darkness, "your pain has given me a cause."

* * *

Sam couldn't sleep again. He had been having nightmares the past couple of nights, a new one. In it he was a small boy again, little Sammy, wandering through a cemetery he didn't know. He knew he had been looking for something, for someone. Eagerly and desperately searching. That part of the dream was something Sam could handle, it was just a normal, typical nightmare that so many people have. What kept Sam awake was what he realized he had been looking for.

His father.

So again he sat up watching the weather channel, which seemed to be the only thing on television at this time of night that didn't involve girls going wild. He was sitting on the floor again. Some how, no one was exactly sure why, the Winchester brothers and Charles sisters had begun to just share a room every night. The women slept on one bed, while Dean and Sam took turns with the other. Tonight was Sam's turn on the floor. He assumed the act of sharing a room came about by the sisters not wanting to be much of a burden on Dean's credit card, but also wanting to get a free room if they could. With rain clouds moving through southern Colorado, Sam glanced over at the sisters. He had noticed that Nikki always slept on the left side, and Alex the right. He then looked over at Dean, who had a hand slipped under his pillow, no doubt clutching the handle of a hunting knife.

Dean murmured something about sea monkeys and Sam grinned, looking back at the TV set.

Tomorrow they would go to a cemetery, looking for his father.

* * *

It surprised Sam a great deal to wake up. This was only because he had not been aware he had fallen asleep. But, sure enough, he soon found himself in a motel room lit by sunlight, leaning back against the nightstand. He moaned slightly as he leaned off of the drawer handle, pretty sure he now had permanent indentation of it on his back. Sam looked around the room, unable to see any of the three people he should have. But he had a distinct feeling he wasn't alone in the room.

"_Surprise_!" he heard Alex yell as she and Nikki jumped up from behind each of the beds on either side of him. Dean emerged from a nearby closet, obvious displeased he had been put in there in the first place. Sam noticed Dean was holding what looked like a cake with candles on it. His eyes widened in shock and he looked over at the sisters, each of whom were holding wrapped gifts. Nikki blew into a small plastic horn.

"Oh no…" Sam said.

"Happy birthday!" Alex yelled and Nikki blew into her horn again.

"Dean why did you tell them?" Sam asked and the sisters crawled down and squeezed next to Sam between the two beds. Dean didn't look at his brother; he just kept his eyes on the floor.

"Oh he didn't mean to, it just slipped. But why didn't _you _tell us today was your birthday?" Alex asked.

"Well, I-" Sam was momentarily cut off as Nikki reached over and gave him a birthday hug, "I didn't think it mattered." He told them, keeping his eyes on Nikki for just a moment. After living with Dean for so long now, he had forgotten what a girl smelled like.

"Not matter! Sam! This is the only time you will _ever_ turn 23. This must be celebrated!" Alex told him. Nikki blew the horn in agreement.

"It's not really anything…" Sam tried to convince them. It sounded much more like a plea then he had intended.

"Of course it is. Dean! The cake!" Alex waved him over. Dean frown but obeyed, a poor unwilling pawn in the sisters' birthday celebration. He crouched down over Sam's knees and held the cake out. Alex pulled out a lighter and the two candles, one shaped like a 2 and the other a 3.

"Okay, make a wish!" she instructed when she was done.

"And don't blow the smoke in my face," Dean added. Sam made a wish and blew at the candles. The smoke went between Dean and Nikki, and the candles were both out. Alex cheered and Nikki blew her horn.

"That's really getting annoying," Dean told Nikki. In response she just blew it again.

"Just go cut the cake," Alex told him and turned back to Sam smiling. Dean gave her a dirty look but did so. He was going to make sure, however, that Alex got the smallest piece.

"This really isn't necessary," Sam tried to explain. He didn't really like seeing his brother used as slave labor, even if cake was involved.

"It only happens once a year Sam, so here, open mine first," Alex said thrusting a gift into his hands. He frowned slightly but unwrapped it.

It was a rather inexpensive looking necklace with hieroglyphics on the pendant. It said 'guide me.'

"It says 'protect me.' It might help keep you safe," Alex told him smiling. Sam looked at her and smiled, supposing it was the thought that counts.

"Thank you," he said and Alex's smile widened.

"Now open hers!" Alex instructed as Nikki held forth her gift. Dean sat down at Sam's feet as he began to unwrap it. He gave the sisters' their pieces of cake and a fork. Alex's was practically a sliver.

When Sam took off the wrapping paper, he unveiled a nice, clean, imitation leather bound book. He flipped through the pages to discover it was an empty journal. It surprised both of the brothers a good deal.

"We saw that old one you guys are always carrying around, and figured it was time for a new one," Alex explained. Nikki nodded in agreement, deciding to give the horn a rest.

"A new one?" the brothers asked in unison. The chorus threw Alex off for a moment, because she didn't know which one to answer.

"Yeah. One that doesn't look like it's about to fall apart," Alex decided on Sam. Dean looked as if he was about to make an angry comment at that, but Sam kicked him gently. That seemed to calm Dean down, surprisingly.

"Thank you, I'll get some use out of it," Sam told Nikki. She smiled and nodded.

"Now! Let us eat cake!" Alex said sticking a fork into her piece as Dean handed one to Sam. At least they got cake out of all of this.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right direction?" Dean asked skeptically. The Impala was going a moderate 30 miles an hour down a backcountry road, Dean in the driver's seat but Alex acting as a back seat driver. It was becoming apparent to the Winchester brothers that Alex had no talent for giving directions. Nikki, who long knew of Alex's lack of skill in that area, noticed they were actually on the right road as the car drove past a familiar ditch Alex had once crashed their car into.

"Yes I'm sure!" Alex answered indignantly.

"Because I don't see a cemetery!" Dean told her.

"It's around here somewhere," Alex said, though her sister could tell she was beginning to doubt it herself.

"Dean, look!" Sam said and pointed to the other side of the road. It was a tombstone. A moment later a small stretch of cemetery was seen.

"This is it! Pull over!" Alex instructed. Dean did so and the four looked over the cemetery beside them. At the same time all four sets of eyes found the lone man standing among the stones.

"Dad!" Dean yelled and both brothers shot out of the car and ran into the graveyard.

"Hey! Guys! Your doors!" Alex yelled after them. With an aggravated sigh the Charles sisters unbuckled and got out of the car as well, slamming their doors closed. Alex shoved Sam's door closed as well, and Nikki did the same with Dean's, remembering to turn the car off first.

The two women jogged over to the three men, all of whom seemed to be standing silent. Sam and Dean's eyes were wide in shock, both at a complete loss of words.

"Holy shit…" Alex said as she and Nikki reached them. The stranger turned and looked at them, a sad and familiar face.

"Dean?" Alex asked him. But it wasn't Dean. He had Dean's eyes and underneath the brown beard were Dean's nose and mouth, but it wasn't Dean.

This was Daniel Winchester.

He turned his sorrowful glare past Alex to Nikki, and past Nikki to Sam, and from Sam finally to Dean. For a long moment they looked at each other, Dean shocked and confused, Daniel so terribly sad. Daniel's eyes moved away from them all and down to the gravestone he was standing in front of.

_Ruth Esther Winchester_, it read. Born April 11th, 1831, died on November 2nd, 1857.

"My fault…" came as a low, sorrowful sound from Daniel Winchester's mouth.

It was surprising to everyone that, at this moment, Nikki Charles was the only one who knew what to do. She reached her hands behind the back of her head and undid the chain of her necklace. She collected it in front of her and handed it to Alex, who was too shocked to notice it being put in her hand. In fact, no one noticed Nikki at all as she took a step forward onto the grave behind Daniel. He smiled slightly, softly, and vanished.

"Wait!" Dean said in protest. One of Nikki's hands moved in front of him to silence him. That was when everyone noticed her. There seemed to a breeze going through the cemetery that only Nikki could feel. She looked over at Dean with sad, pitch black eyes. It took everyone a moment to realize what had happened.

"Nikki?" Alex asked worriedly, finding her sister's pendant in her hand. Nikki, or rather, Daniel, took a step farther onto the grave. This frightened Alex terribly, as only one spirit had ever been capable of moving Nikki's body. Everyone watched to see what Daniel would do.

He crumpled to his knees and wept.

It was a miserable, horrible, heart-breaking sob that everyone could feel in the pit of his or her stomach. It filled the cemetery and seemed to echo throughout the woods. Birds stopped their tweeting, squirrels stopped gathering nuts, everything stopped to listen to such a sorrowful sound. Alex raised a hand to her face as she felt herself begin to tear.

"I'm sorry!" Daniel sobbed, Dean's deep, husky voice coming out of Nikki's mouth. Daniel kept on weeping until he could no longer breathe. He choked out a few more sobs in between deep breaths and finally he seemed to calm down.

"It's all my fault," he said. Tiredly, he looked up at Dean who had never seen a sight so terrifying in his life. From Dean Daniel turned and look at something off into the woods. He stared in that direction for a few moments before bowing his head.

"Thank you," he said, and was gone.

Nikki fell to the ground in an exhausted thud. Alex raced over and slipped the necklace and pendant back around her neck.

"What _was_ that?" she demanded, trying to cradle her sister and wipe tears off of her own face. Sam ran a hand through his hair trying to get a hold of things. Dean had turned his head away from them, and was looking out into the woods. He could feel tears forming in his eyes, but tried his best to ignore them.

"Nikki, Nikki sweetheart, are you okay?" Alex asked, pushing strands of hair off her sister's tear soaked face. There was a very long moment before Nikki opened her eyes and looked up. She gave Alex a weak smile and Alex laughed in relief and hugged Nikki tighter.

"Oh darling, what happened?" she asked. Nikki didn't have the energy to answer now, but she would soon. Sam looked away from the sisters and over to his brother, only to find Dean gone.

"Dean?" he asked, frantically looking around. He saw Dean walking off into the woods, heading in the direction Daniel had been staring. Sam frowned and jogged after him.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked when he reached Dean, who was now kneeling on the ground.

"There's something over here," Dean answered, beginning to brush some of the layers of dead leaves away.

"What?" Sam asked.

"I don't know! Something he wanted me to find!" Dean said and sniffled. Sam did the only thing he could think of, he knelt down and began helping his brother shove leaves aside.

A moment later they found it.

Underneath so many leaves was a flat lying stone. It looked similar to the type of stone used to make Ruth Winchester's grave marker. Also similar to Ruth's stone, was the carving of _November 2nd, 1857_.

"Is that it?" Dean asked, angry at the lack of more information. The brothers kept digging until they had found the entire rim of the stone. That date was the only thing it said.

"What do you suppose it means?" Sam asked, trying to wipe some of the dirt off of his hands.

"I don't know…" Dean said, and hated having to admit it. Sam sighed and looked back into the graveyard. He could see Nikki sitting up and signing.

"Come on, maybe she can explain something."

* * *

Alex moved Nikki carefully back to the car and the Winchester brothers joined them not long after. After a few moments in which Nikki mostly blew her nose, her face began to come back to its normal color.

"Can she tell us anything?" Sam asked Alex in a gentle tone of voice. Alex looked briefly at her sister then back at Sam. For some reason she had trouble looking at Dean.

"Well," she started, "apparently, spirits can move Nikki's body, if she lets them. And she said that this one, needed to grieve before it could move on. So she let him."

"_And_?" Dean asked. Alex shrugged.

"That's it. That's all. He needed to cry," she said almost apologetically. As little as both she and Nikki knew about this, the moment they saw Daniel Winchester they knew it was important. Sam sighed and turned around in his chair to sit down. Dean rested his forehead on the top of his seat.

"But, that tombstone, Ruth Winchester," Alex said. Both brothers looked at her again. "That's the one your father was looking at."

"Really?" Dean asked. Alex nodded. Sam looked out of the car back out at the cemetery. For the first time he really looked at it, and was not entirely surprised at what he saw.

It was the same cemetery from his dream, his nightmare. He hadn't been able to find his father in that, either.

"Did you guys find anything in the woods?" Alex asked them. Dean turned around and buckled himself in.

"No, nothing," he said and started the car.

* * *

That night it was Dean who couldn't sleep. Nightmares weren't his problem, however, he didn't even get the chance to have them. He spent the night tossing and turning around on the floor. It was either a knot in the blanket, his boxers riding up, something dangling on his hand, or another of so many things that kept him moving about, trying to find a comfortable position. Of course, many of these things were imaginary; he tossed around because of nervous energy.

So much had happened, so much had been happening. They were getting so much closer to this thing they'd been hunting all of his life. He just knew they were. After today, after looking at Daniel Winchester and into his own eyes, after hearing himself weeping like that… he had no doubt they were getting closer.

And Dean tossed and turned because he knew their father should be here. The Charles sisters shouldn't be in the bed, John Winchester should be. Dean let out a sigh and settled into a temporary position on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

He knew it was wrong for a grown man to miss his father, his dad. Now Sam was 23, Dean would be 27 soon and still wanted his dad to be close by, to protect him, to take care of him. Sam didn't seem to need that. Sam seemed so… independent.

Maybe Sam wasn't wrong.

Maybe Dean was.

* * *

Sam was a little surprised the next morning to wake up and find Dean gone with a note (gently taped to Sam's forehead,) saying he had gone to get breakfast. Crumbling the note into a ball and throwing it near the wastebasket, Sam could hear the shower turn on and a bad rendition of 'I Told the Witch Doctor' coming out of the bathroom. Nikki shifted sleepily in her bed, so Alex must be the American Idol reject. Not that it could have been Nikki anyway. Sam reached over for the TV remote to turn the news on when his hand hit something else. He looked over and saw a box covered in gift-wrap on the nightstand. His name was on it in Dean's handwriting.

Sam knew it was bad spirited of him to expect something dangerous was in there.

But, he decided to give Dean the benefit of the doubt and unwrapped it. It was a box, and written on it was 'Soundproof Headphones. Completely blocks out _all_ sound pollution!' Sam narrowed his eyes and carefully opened the box. Nothing popped out at him so he reached inside and sure enough, pulled out a pair of headphones.

He put them on his head, and heard nothing. Not the shower, not Alex singing, not even Nikki rolling around in her bed.

Inside the box was a note, again in Dean's sloppy handwriting.

'For use against the good music. Happy B-Day, Dean.'

Sam couldn't stop himself from grinning.

* * *

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Sam asked. He and Dean were leaning against the side of the Impala, looking at Nikki and Alex who stood in front of them, all of their worldly possession slung over their shoulders. Alex looked around them at the Denver sky. She nodded in approval.

"Yeah, we'll be fine. We're just going to rent a car and continue what we were doing before," she told him. Nikki signed something.

"Until you need our help again, that is," Alex translated with a smirk. Dean didn't find that very funny.

"Well, hopefully we might see each other before then," Sam said. The girls nodded, agreeing to that sentiment.

"Not too soon, though…" Dean practically mumbled. He was beginning to learn to control his mouth, really.

"Well, later, anyway," Alex said holding out a hand to him. Dean looked at it for a moment before shaking it. Sam shook Nikki's and then they switched.

"Y'all take are of each other," Alex told them and the sisters walked off, Nikki waving goodbye. The brothers waved back.

"Where to now?" Sam asked as he walked around to get into the car.

"I think there was something in Texas about a haunted house," Dean said. Sam nodded in approval as he and Dean headed off to Texas.


	15. Sasha Davis

_**Sasha Davis**_

* * *

"Oh come on Alvin, don't be a dork, it's just an old house," ten year old Stephen Gammell said as he jimmied the front door open. Alvin Schwartz, Stephen's timid best friend, gazed up at the house looming above them. In it's prime it must have been beautiful, but now the wood was rotting and the paint was chipped and gray. It was well known around the neighborhood that no one had lived in it for over ten years.

No one had even been able to spend the night.

"Stephen I don't think this is such a good idea."

"You don't think anything cool is a good idea."

"I don't think anything _haunted_ is a good idea," Alvin clarified. Stephen just gave him a dirty look and walked into the house. Alvin took a deep breath and, because bravery is supposedly a good thing, followed his friend.

An hour later both boys ran from the house screaming.

* * *

Sam was in the driver's seat of the Impala, nodding his head slightly to the music of his choice. In an odd switch, Dean sat in the passenger seat wearing Sam's new soundproof headphones. Not only did they block out the music Sam was playing, but it also silenced any complaints Sam might have of Dean cleaning his gun in a moving car. It also got rid of any chance for conversation about Daniel Winchester and anything along that line.

But, when Sam did need to talk to him, he tapped Dean on the knee. Dean took off the headphones as Sam turned off the radio.

"I think this is it," Sam said as they drove past the beginnings of a small town. Dean nodded and turned to set his gun on the floor in the backseat. He'd never admit it, but he was sad not to see the Charles sisters back there. He shrugged the feeling off and grabbed Sam's laptop.

"Right, so, a haunted house," Dean said opening it up and getting online.

"Now you said it hasn't actually killed anyone, right?"

"Yeah, but, you know. I figured we could use an easy one," Dean explained. Sam nodded, definitely agreeing with that.

"Alright, so tell me about it."

"Well," Dean said "no one has lived in the house for over a decade. Not since the former owner mysteriously disappeared."

"Murdered and buried in the basement…"

"Most likely. Since then it's become your typical haunted house. A lot of kids go in, get too scared to stay the night, yadda yadda."

"What scares them?"

"Mostly the reputation. Some report foot steps, there's one report of a scream being heard from the cellar."

"The cellar?" Sam asked. Dean nodded and scrolled down a bit.

"Looks like a lot of the sounds come from the cellar."

"Well now we know where to look first."

"Yeah. Hey, I think that's it," Dean said pointing across the street. Sam saw it and pulled over. As he moved the car into a good parking spot, he went up and off the curb slightly. Dean, who certainly noticed, glared at Sam. The younger Winchester shrugged it off and got out of the car.

* * *

They stood on the sidewalk for a few moments, looking up at the sinister building in front of them. It was unsurprisingly similar to all of the other haunted houses they had encountered over the last 20something years. It all looked pretty normal.

"Come on, let's get this over with," Dean said and they walked up to the house.

While it was true the brothers could benefit from a nice and easy ghost after the trouble of the preceding days, neither brother looked forward to a generic, uninteresting haunting.

Sam got to the door first and it opened easily after years of being broken into. The brothers took a few steps in and turned on their flashlights. Even though it was still sunny out, the inside of the house was as dark as if it were night.

"_Kids_," Dean said shaking his head as the beam of his flashlight moved over the graffiti that covered the walls. Though, he had to admit, 'AHN' had some talent with spray cans.

"Hey, Dean, check this out," Sam said. Dean looked over and saw Sam's flashlight on a spray painted inverted pentagram.

"Good to know this place has the Satanists seal of approval," Dean said as they continued around the building. A loud creak came from the floorboards above them and both brothers stood still, turning their flashlights off. The creaking continued, they were most definitely footsteps. Sam and Dean followed quietly underneath them and stopped when the footsteps came to the top of a set of stairs. The brothers each took out gun (with rock salt bullets,) and started up the stairs very slowly. Soon they were timing their steps with those descending the staircase. When Dean came to the landing, he flicked his flashlight on quickly and aimed both that and his gun at where the ghost should be.

The man caught in the beam of light screamed in fear and fell back against the wall away from Dean, clutching his bible. A little surprised himself, Dean put his gun away before the man could see it. Sam did likewise as he stepped up behind his brother. They both noticed the white color around the man's neck. They both let out a sigh, but whether it was from relief or disappointment no one knows.

"Oh thank God," the man said, collecting himself and getting a good look at Sam and Dean, "I thought you were a ghost." He chuckled slightly at himself and the situation and began to clean his glasses.

"Father, what are you doing here?" Dean asked him. He put his glasses back on and smiled.

"Oh, you boys must be Catholic," he said simply. Sam and Dean glanced briefly at each other, wondering if they gave off a 'Catholic vibe.'

"Why would you say that?" Sam asked.

"He called me 'Father.' That's a Catholic title. I'm a Reverend. Reverend Noah Todd," he said extending a hand. Dean was a little hesitant but Sam went ahead and shook it.

"I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean," he introduced.

"Glad to meet you. So, you must be here looking for the ghost, hm?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's a hobby," Sam offered. Dean wasn't sure what to think about that answer. A 'hobby?'

"How about you, Reverend? What brings you here?" he asked.

"Oh, I just thought I'd come offer a little peace to whoever might still be here," he said looking around with the same degree of pity as one would use while looking at a jail cell.

"Find anything?" Sam asked. The brothers would look around upstairs anyway, but it was still worth asking.

"No, no I'm afraid not. But I suppose the ghosts only come out at midnight, right?" he seemed to think is was funny. Sam smiled politely.

"That's what we hear," he said. This seemed to satisfy the reverend and he nodded at them.

"Well, I won't tell the authorities you were here, if you won't tell them I was," he winked at them.

"Oh, thank you," Sam said. The reverend smiled, nodded, and walked past them down the stairs. Once they heard the front door open and close they continued their way upstairs.

"Man the clergy freaks me out," Dean said.

"That's probably natural," Sam said mostly to himself, "what religion are you, anyway?"

It was almost surprising the lack of discussion about faith in the Winchester family.

"Damned if I know," Dean answered, looking into the bathroom.

* * *

"So the preliminary search showed nothing," Sam said before he took a bite out of a BLT. The brothers, having finished a search of the house, had gone out for lunch. The haunted house wasn't dangerous so they decided to take their time and let it be a long lunch. Sam just ordered a sandwich because ever since his birthday, he had a craving for cake, and wanted to leave room for dessert. Dean, who had gotten a colossal steak (medium rare,) nodded.

"Yeah, nothing from the preliminary search," he said and sucked at a piece of steak caught in his teeth. Sam frowned, because he was smart enough to know when he was being made fun of.

"We should go back around eleven tonight, I think. The reverend was right, midnight is a good time," Sam said, though he knew it really went without saying.

"I need new batteries," Dean said seemingly out of nowhere.

"For what?"

"An electrical device," Dean said and took a sip of his coffee. Sam wasn't going to let him get away with _that_.

"Something for tonight?"

"Yeah," Dean muttered and took another sip of his coffee.

"Does it begin with the letter E?" Sam asked, grinning. At that Dean practically slammed his coffee mug down, causing a few drops to land on the table.

"Could you lay off it?" he asked. Sam was surprised but remained silent. There were times when Dean was upset that he acted just like their father, and Sam would prefer it if this wasn't one of those times. So there was silence and both brothers looked down at their food.

* * *

To spend the hours before they were going to go back to the haunted house, Sam and Dean rented a hotel room. Check out wouldn't be until three the next afternoon, so they'd still be able to get some sleep when their work here was done. Dean was currently getting a head start in that aspect of things, lying stomach down on one of the beds with his coat and boots still on. Sam opted for taking a shower and was now doing that, only somewhat weary of the sounds coming from the pipes.

This was not the nicest place they'd ever stayed.

After rinsing the first application of shampoo out of his hair, Sam just stood in the shower, letting the water run down him. There was always something so soothing about showers, something that made Sam feel… clean.

But that was a funny thought.

Sam's mind drifted back to that cemetery where Ruth Winchester was buried. He found he couldn't get the sound of Daniel Winchester's sobs out of his head. He knew it had been Daniel crying, but it sounded so much like Dean Sam just couldn't shake it.

Considering how safe it was, it was one of the scariest things Sam had ever heard.

* * *

By the time Sam emerged from the shower, dressed, combed his hair, shaved, brushed his teeth and several other maintenance activities that Dean thought were a waste of time, it was almost eleven o'clock. Sam was glad to find Dean still asleep, because he needed all the sleep he could get. They both did.

But, the time was upon them to go deal with a haunted house, so Dean needed to get up.

Sam stood there for a moment, looking down at Dean, compiling a list of various evil ways to awaken his dear brother, without getting his throat cut.

He supposed putting Dean's hand in a bowl of warm water was a little _too_ evil. He didn't know if that even worked. Yelling 'fire' was probably a bad idea. Yelling his brother's name lacked flair…

Finally Sam decided and walked over to the other side of the bed then Dean was asleep on, where he'd be out of knife's reach. He raised his foot up on the mattress and shook the bed.

Dean flopped about on it for a few moments, looking surprisingly like a seal, before coming to and wondering what the hell was going on. He saw Sam and grimaced.

"Earthquake," Sam told him simply. Dean groaned and rolled over onto his back.

"I was having the greatest dream" he said, "Marilyn was there, and we were on a beach, alone…"

"Well, welcome back to the horror that is reality. Wake up, it's almost eleven," Sam instructed him. Dean frowned but sat up. He took a moment to look around the room.

"I'm ready," he said. Sam shook his head and grabbed the keys to the Impala.

* * *

The house looked much better at night. This was probably because you could see less of it. Again the brothers stood at the sidewalk looking up at the house, only now they were armed to the teeth. They could see a glimmer of light moving about the upstairs. Neither were very concerned about it.

"That light," Dean started, "ghost or clergy?"

"Clergy," Sam answered. Dean gave him an inquisitive look. "Ghost's in the cellar."

Dean nodded in approval and the two walked into the house.

* * *

No sooner had then closed the door behind them that they heard Reverend Noah Todd walking around upstairs. They paused for a moment to listen, and quickly they could hear his voice. He spoke like most reverends do, loudly, clearly, calmly, and with a little bit of a lisp. But there was a shakiness to his voice that was understandable.

"…they comfort me…" the brothers could make out from below him.

"Psalms 23?" Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"Verse four."

"_Reverend_!" Dean yelled, even making Sam jump a little. They could hear a quick 'clunk' above them as the reverend dropped his bible in fright.

"Y-yes?" his voice carried back down.

"It's Dean and Sam! We met earlier!"

"O-o-_oh_! Yes! Hello!" he said, suddenly cheery.

"Come on down, the ghost's not up there!" Dean told him. There was a pause upstairs.

"Alright!"

* * *

"There, that's the cellar door," Rev. Todd said pointing to a door in the wall. It looked like any of the others doors, gray and old. Dean went over and inspected it, as things are usually not what they seem.

"So…" the reverend started, "why do you think she's in the cellar?"

At that the brothers turned their attentions solely on the good reverend.

"What makes you think it's a 'she?'" Sam asked. Rev. Todd looked at him a little surprised. What exactly he was surprised about, who knows?

"I assume it's Sasha Davis…" he explained. Sam and Dean glanced at each other.

"And she is…?" Dean urged on. The reverend cleared his throat and gripped his bible a little tighter.

"This is her house. Well, it was. She disappeared about ten years ago," he explained. With that, both brothers knew who was in the basement.

And a moment later, they heard her.

First it sounded like someone running about down stairs. Then a woman tried to scream but was cut off, gagged or worse. Then they heard a fight, tumbling and wrestling.

Then everything went quiet.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I-" Rev. Todd started but stopped when footsteps were heard coming up the cellar stairs. Dean and Sam readied their weapons.

The steps came closer and closer, and soon the doorknob began to turn.

"What do you want?" Rev. Todd yelled. Sam turned and tried to quiet him. The door began to open.

"In the name of God what do you want?" the reverend yelled again. He griped his bible tightly, his knuckles white and cold. His eyes were wide and sweat dripped down his face. Dean made a face, telling Sam to shut the reverend up. Sam, who had been trying, did not appreciate that.

But then the door was open.

A woman stood in it, pale and lifeless. She stared at them with empty sockets, her dangled hair floating about her.

"He killed me," she said, her voice sounded as if it were being swept away with the wind and carried about the room.

"Who did?" Dean asked, lowering his gun. She turned to him and reached forward. He took a step away but her bony hand grabbed the collar of his jacket.

"My love, he killed me. For my money. He dug a hole and buried my body in the cellar," her voice was again blown around the room. Dean nodded that he understood. She let go and turned back to Sam and the reverend, her eyes on the book of God.

"Go to the cellar, bury me well. Take the end joint of my little finger on my left hand, lay it in the collection plate, and you will find my love," she said. The reverend nodded.

"Come again when all is done. At midnight, I will tell you where you can find my money. And I will rest after that," then she began to cry, and that moved like a hurricane through the room. She sunk down and through the floor, back into the cellar, for now.

* * *

It wasn't often that Sam and Dean went to church. But the next day, which was oddly enough Sunday, they sat in the pews, looking out of place and uncomfortable. Dean had tried to sneak in a cassette player, but Sam had stopped that. If there was a God, Sam felt it'd be a good idea not to piss Him off. After a long sermon on confession and redemption, the collection plate of passed around. No one had seemed to noticed the small bone laying in the dish, and those who did figured it was some religious thing and paid it no mind. Sam and Dean, who had the dubious distinction of separating it from the body now buried in the church's cemetery, were not much disturbed by it. In fact, the most disturbing thing that happened as the plate passed the brothers, was Sam placing a hundred dollars on it, to Dean's horror.

But church is not the place to debate over money you won at poker.

The collection plate had moved through half of the congregation before a man screamed and stood up. Everyone turned to find him shaking his hand violently in front of him as the cheap tin plate and all of the money hit the floor. He continued to scream and claw at his hand as he made his way into the aisle. Rev. Todd stepped away from his podium and down to the first pew.

"Get it off! Get if off!" the man yelled. His nails had begun to scratch his flesh, drawing blood.

But still the small bone would not come loose.

"Get it off! Get it off! Alright! I did it!" he began to scream. The reverend walked over to him, calmly but seriously. Behind him was a man, wearing a golden sheriff's badge even in church.

"I killed her! I killed her! I killed Sasha!" the man screamed.

And with that the bone fell to the ground. The congregation (plus Sam and Dean,) stared at the bone, expecting it to hop around like a Mexican jumping bean.

But it did nothing.

Everyone's attention soon returned to the man as the large, badge-wielding sheriff took a hold of his shirt.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Simon?" he asked the man.

* * *

With Sasha's killer sitting in a jail cell, the brothers and Rev. Todd returned to the haunted house. At midnight a voice carried through the room as if caught in the wind. Sam and Dean, ever prepared, plied some of the boards off of the floor. Rev. Todd peered meekly into the opening, reached in, and pulled out a tin box. Because everyone loves to watch the opening of a treasure chest, the brothers gathered around the reverend as he opened it.

It was dusty, but a few hundred-dollar bills were visible lying on a small stack of papers. The reverend pulled out of the money and handed the men the papers to look at.

"There's six hundred dollars here," the reverend counted. He thought briefly about what the local shelter for battered women might do with it.

"Um, Reverend…" Sam said as he flipped through the papers. Dean tried to peek over his shoulder, but the papers didn't make any sense to him.

"Yes?" Rev. Todd said looking up at him. Sam handed him the papers.

"She had stock in IBM…" Sam told him. Dean grabbed Sam's coat sleeve tightly as the papers left his brother's hands.

He always wanted stock in IBM.

The reverend looked the papers over, and smiled, thinking of the people that money would help.

* * *

The Winchester brothers stopped at a gas station on their way out of town. They had plenty of gas, but Dean needed to use a washroom. After returning the key to the cashier, he walked back over to the Impala, which Sam was patiently leaning against. Dean was rubbing a damp paper towel on the collar of his jacket, looking angrily down at it.

"We dig up her grave, we give her a proper burial, we catch her killer, and we give her money away without a fight, you'd think she'd at least let us get away without ruining out clothes," Dean complained. He stopped fussing with his jacket and Sam could see the impression of fingers burned into the leather, where Sasha Davis had grabbed Dean's collar.

"Don't think of it as a ruined coat. Think of it as a _conversation piece_," Sam suggested walking around the car and getting in.

Dean did not like that idea.


	16. Evening Gown

_**Evening Gown**_

* * *

"Zoe! Zoe darling wake up!" Sue Wicks said as she trudged up the carpeted stairwell to her daughter's room. It was already late into the morning, but, being Saturday, it was okay for the teenage girl to still be asleep.

"Zoe…" Mrs. Wicks tapped slightly on her daughter's door, "tell me how the dance went last night."

There was silence, and Mrs. Wicks simply assumed Zoe was still asleep. So, she knocked once more and quietly opened the door, because you should always be quiet before waking someone up.

"Honey…?" Mrs. Wicks peeked her head into the room. Zoe was lying in her bed, under the covers. The mother smiled and walked over to her.

"Time to wake up and tell me how things went," she said, moving some of her daughter's hair off of her face with a gentle hand.

She smiled, looking down at the girl's face.

But something was wrong.

* * *

Just up the hill a mile or two away Dean could see the beginning of a city. He couldn't remember if he'd ever been there or not, but he knew he wasn't going there now. The Winchester brothers had gotten off the highway and were parked in an Arby's lot. They weren't hungry or needed gas, they just needed to get out and stretch their legs a bit. Arby's just happened to be the closest parking lot.

"Alright, so, what's this thing you found?" Dean asked as he reached his arms up over his head and stretched. Sam, who was happy enough being able to stand, sighed and scratched his head. He wasn't ready yet to get back in the car and check his computer, so he'd be doing this from memory.

"A killer dress," he said. Dean gave him a questioning glance.

"Do you mean that literally, or is it just your opinion?" he asked. Sam gave him a brief glare.

"It's literal. Four girls, all wear this dress, all found dead the next morning," he explained. Dean nodded, it sounded promising.

"Any connections? Friends, family?"

"Just the dress. The first was a few years ago. She wore it to a party, went to bed, died. Her parents sold it to another girl. She wore it a month later at her wedding. Was dead the next morning," Sam told him. Dean grinned and chuckled slightly as he thought what else she might have died of. Sam ignored it.

"Her family, who never wanted to see it again, gave it to a friend. She wore it-"

"Found dead. It gets passed to the last girl, okay, I get it. Autopsy?"

"On all four," Sam answered, his voice indicating this was very interesting.

"Did they reveal cause of death?"

"Embalming fluid. Slowed their hearts," Sam told him. Dean nodded in approval.

"Well _that's_ sufficiently creepy," he said. He walked over to the car and opened his door.

"Where are we headed?" he asked.

"Well, that's the difficult part," Sam said. Dean stopped and looked at him.

"They destroy it?"

"No, no the dress is fine."

"Then what's the problem?"

"After the last girl the press got a hold of the story," Sam began. Dean sighed and hung his head. "The dress has been auctioned."

At that Dean looked up in disbelief.

"_Auctioned_?" he asked. Sam nodded.

"While the deaths occurred in California, the dress is in Chicago," Sam delivered the bad news. Dean closed his eyes for a moment and thought. He debated which was more important, which they were closer to, which had the easiest route, etc… Finally he sighed and looked at Sam.

"Let's go to Chicago," Dean said.

"Why?" Sam was just curious. Dean shrugged.

"I dunno…"

* * *

"What's an eight letter word for 'chum?'" Dean asked. The brothers had switched places about halfway through Missouri, and Dean had taken out The Big Book of Crossword Puzzles as they drove over the Illinois state line.

"Playmate," Sam told him, changing lanes. Dean nodded and wrote it in.

"Alright then, 'elongated fish' three letters."

"Eel," Sam answered. Dean wrote that in.

"'Inkling.' Four letters."

"Idea."

"Right…" Dean said. Sam glanced over at his brother and narrowed his eyes.

"You're doing it in pen?" he asked, "what if we make a mistake?"

"Sam, you haven't gotten any of these wrong in three months," Dean told him simply, looking over the next clue.

"Really?"

"Really," Dean answered, "'chimney duct,' four letters."

"Flue."

"That's only three."

"There's an 'e' at the end," Sam clarified. Dean shrugged but wrote it down.

"So who bought the dress, anyway?" he asked, filling in one he knew.

"Roberta Tait," Sam told him. Dean looked up from the crossword.

"That means it's a chick, right?"

"Most likely," Sam didn't want to know what his brother was thinking.

"You don't think she'll put it on, do you?" Dean asked. Sam thought for a moment but shook his head.

"I think she's a big collector of this stuff. Look her up online," he suggested. Dean set the book of puzzles and pen aside and hoisted the computer up onto his lap. There were a few minutes while he got online and began to search.

"She's probably some crazy old lady," Dean said. Sam glanced over at him, figuring no one named 'Winchester' had a right to complain about crazy old ladies.

Sam turned back to the road just in time to miss Dean's face go white.

"Sam, hurry up…" Dean said in almost a whisper.

"What? Why?" Sam asked, expecting the dress to have killed someone else.

"I just found Roberta Tait," Dean answered and spun the laptop so Sam could see the screen. Sam looked, and pressed a little harder on the gas.

It was most definitely a picture of Ruth Winchester.

* * *

Roberta Tait lived in the penthouse of one of Chicago's high-rises. It took Dean and Sam a good while to park and enter the building, mostly because Dean refused the valet parking. Even in moments of great importance, of which this was, Dean refused to let just anyone drive his car. They had snuck into the building while the doorman was talking to some pretty blonde thing, and Sam had pressed the button for 'penthouse.'

"Now, no yelling, so screaming, no pounding, no shouting, and no half mumbling under your breath," Sam instructed on the elevator ride. Thankfully they were alone, or Sam might not have had this chance. Dean just rolled his eyes and thought of something sarcastic to say.

"And no sarcasm!" Sam seemed to read his mind, "we don't want to scare her off."

"Oh I'm not going to scare her off!" Dean complained, "not somewhere we can't catch her, anyway…"

Sam was about to say something when the elevator doors opened to the penthouse and Dean shot out of it like a cannon. Sam quickly ran after him and by the time he found his brother, Dean was standing impatiently in front of Roberta Tait's door, waiting for it to open. Sam gave him a warning glare as the door opened.

It was a woman. She was in her mid-20s, about half a foot shorter than the brothers, her skin was typical for a Caucasian and she was rather wiry without any real feminine curves. Her brown hair was cut very short in the back but long enough to fall into her eyes if she didn't have it moved elegantly to the side. Her most distinguishing feature was large, gray eyes.

Dean remembered those from the photograph, but was surprised to see they were actually gray.

Those eyes looked suspiciously at Sam, but narrowed considerably when they landed on Dean. He looked suspiciously back at her.

"Are you Roberta Tait?" Sam asked her, though he already knew. She turned her attention from Dean.

"Yeah, I'm Bobbi," she said. That pleased Dean. He much preferred the idea of marrying a Bobbi then marrying a Roberta.

"I'm Sam, I talked to you on the phone…" Sam had been smart enough to talk to her ahead of time. She seemed to remember this and the apprehensive look in her eyes lessened slightly.

"Right, about the white dress from California," Bobbi said. It was obvious she was trying to decide whether or not to let them in, but her eyes went back to Dean and she stepped aside, opening the door. Sam entered first.

"Yes. Like I told you, we have reason to believe the dress might actually be worth something," he told her. Once she led them into a small sitting room, Bobbi turned and looked at them, arms crossed over her chest.

"It's not even worth what I paid for it," she admitted, "I only got it for my collection."

"What collection?" Sam asked. It seemed slightly odd for Sam to be doing all of the talking, but Dean just couldn't take his eyes off Bobbi Tait, let alone get his mind and mouth to work properly. It was Ruth Winchester, it had to be. This was the woman he was probably going to marry.

To actually _love_.

That thought sent a chill through him and Dean was able to look away from her. His eyes surveyed the room with little interest. It was clean and moderately furnished, it looked like it had been decorated by someone who had no real interest in how it looked, just didn't want it to look messy. He craned his neck slightly and read the titles of some of the books on a nearby shelf. Dean had actually read some of them. Books on ghosts, monsters, collections of scary stories, etc…

"My collection of the macabre, I guess. That's what my dad calls it," Bobbi answered Sam, drawing Dean's attention back to her. "I collect things with a past."

Both Dean and Sam thought this made quite a bit of sense, considering Daniel and Samuel's wives were supposed to have hunted alongside them.

Now that Sam thought about it, Jessica had quite a hefty scary movie collection, and had always dragged him to the latest monster movie.

"So if it weren't for those dead girls, the dress would be worthless…" Sam clarified. Bobbi nodded and there was an awkward pause.

"Are you Daniel?" she asked Dean. This surprised both brothers incredibly.

"I… _what_?" were the first words Dean spoke to her. Bobbi shifted uneasily.

"I want to show you something."

* * *

Bobbi Tait led the brothers down a hall and through a locked door into a large vault she opened with a keypad. Wordlessly she led them past row after row of artifacts. Weapons, papers, clothes, even the door of a car. The vault must have taken up most of the penthouse. Bobbi stopped in one row and opened a small safe. She removed a small box and set it on the gray table between her and the brothers. She looked down into the box uncertainly before turning it around and pushing it closer to them.

"I found it in an antique store between the pages of a bible," she explained. Dean and Sam peered down through the glass cover of the box and saw an old, brown photograph.

It was 19th century, most certainly, of a man and woman standing next to each other. The man was dressed well, clean-shaven with his hair combed back. The woman was dressed in a long white gown and veil, holding a bouquet of flowers. Both faces looked familiar.

"Turn it over," Bobbi instructed. Dean turned the box over to reveal another glass side showing the back of the photograph.

"Daniel and Ruth Winchester, June 9th, 1855," Dean read. He looked up at Bobbi.

"Our wedding picture," she told him simply. Sam took the picture from Dean and looked at it again. It was Dean and Bobbi. So evident in the eyes, for them both. It was odd they both had such defining eyes.

"That's why I let you two in," Bobbi explained, "do you two know anything about it?"

The brothers glanced at each other, Sam giving Dean a look saying it was up to him. Dean looked at the picture, then back at Bobbi.

"No," he finally said, "it just looks like us."

There was a pause.

"Can we see the dress?" Dean asked.

* * *

Bobbi put the picture away and walked them down back past the car door and into another row of things. Sam was looking at a mold of a large foot as Bobbi pulled out a white dress and set it on another table. It was a simple white dress, ankle length with spaghetti straps. It looked like it'd be fun to spin around in.

Dean took his EMF meter out of his pocket and put it on. Sam leaned forward and examined the dress, looking for discoloration or anything of the sort. Bobbi stepped back and watched them, at this point fairly certain they weren't appraisers.

"Is that an EMF meter?" she asked. Both brothers turned to look at her, a little surprised.

"Um, yeah," Dean answered. Bobbi took a few steps over and took it out of his hands. She looked it over and nodded in approval.

"You made it yourself?" she asked Dean. He nodded. Bobbi looked it over again and still seemed to approve.

"I have one from 1951. It's the size of a bath tub," Bobbi told him.

"Really?" Dean asked smiling. Bobbi nodded.

"I found it at a garage sale, of all places."

"How much?"

"Five cents. They had no idea what is was and just wanted to get rid of the ugly thing so badly," Bobbi said, smiling for the first time.

"Is it here?"

"Yeah, it's around the corner. Come on, I'll show you," Bobbi said walking away from the table. Dean followed her excitedly.

"Um, Dean?" Sam called after them, "the dress! _Dean_!"

* * *

"And there, at the end of his leg, is just this weird, _goose_ _foot_ thing!" Dean said and he and Bobbi laughed. She had led the brothers back out of the vault and into the kitchen where she had reheated last night's Chinese food and set out three pairs of chopsticks. Dean and Bobbi had been talking since they left the vault. Sam managed a 'thank you' for the food but wasn't sure either of them had heard him.

"Seriously?" Bobbi asked, "that's disgusting! How didn't she notice?"

"I guess she wanted to believe it was him so badly," Dean said with a shrug.

"You can't blame her for that, really…" Bobbi said and a sad silence fell on the table. Sam wasn't about to let it pass.

"What do you know about that dress?" he asked her. Bobbi took a sip of her wine and turned to him.

"Well I know four women that wore it all died from embalming fluid poisoning."

"Did you have it looked at?" Dean asked her. She nodded.

"There's no embalming fluid on it."

"Maybe someone washed it," Dean suggested.

"Of course they have. The first woman. Then the second one, and so on. That dress has been washed plenty of times," Sam explained, "people still die."

Dean frowned, his brother had a point.

"I don't understand why there'd be embalming fluid on it anyway," Bobbi said.

"It must have been a death shroud or something," Sam said with a shrug. The brothers looked at each other in realization.

"Of course!" Dean said grinning.

"Wait, you mean, my dress is off a dead body?" Bobbi asked. It wasn't possible to tell right now if she liked this idea or not.

"It may very well be."

"Probably haunted, too," Dean added. At this Bobbi lit up.

"So I got a bargain, huh? That's great!" she said and took a celebratory sip from her wine glass.

"You don't mind?" Sam asked her. She shook her head.

"I have tons of haunted stuff. I have at least one ghost, um," Bobbi tried to think of the right word, "_residing_ in my vault."

"Really?" Dean asked, wondering if that would have interfered with his EMF readings. It hadn't occurred to him that almost everything in that vault messed with those readings.

"Yeah. He's some soldier or something."

"Is he safe?"

"Oh, yeah. Apparently he was killed while on watch duty, so now he just watches over my vault instead," she shrugged, not really understanding it.

"That's convenient," Dean said trying to see if it was possible to eat an egg roll with chopsticks.

"And _effective_. Some guy actually broke into my vault once, and the ghost scared him so much he fainted," Bobbi shook her head, "I don't know how that thief knew my pass number, though…"

"6-9-1-8-5-5," both brothers said at once. They looked at each other in surprise and Bobbi's mouth opened slightly in shock.

"You guys saw me punch that in…" she said. They both shook their heads. "Then how did you know?"

Sam looked at Dean, letting him answer that one.

"It's the date of Daniel and Ruth's wedding," he said and took a long sip from his beer bottle. A June wedding, honestly… That was something that, well, something that _Sam_ would do.

"Well," Sam started, "we have some stuff in the car that we'd like to go over the dress with."

"We do?" Dean asked. Sam looked at him for a moment, trying to tell if he was being serious or not.

"Yeah! The Polaroid, the digital camera, the black light…" Sam listed. Dean nodded and glanced briefly at Bobbi.

"Well you go out and get those," Dean told him.

"Like hell," Sam said, but Dean and Bobbi were already ignoring him.

"Have I told you about my car?" Dean asked her. She shook her head, smiling.

"No. What kind is it?" she asked. Sam shook his head and walked around the table to get the keys out of the jacket slung around the back of Dean's chair.

* * *

One of the good things about Dean's car was its unique look. Amongst all of the minivans and sedans and pick up trucks, the Chevy Impala was nice and easy to find. Sam retrieved the equipment quickly and hurried back to Bobbi's penthouse. Not that he was in any particular rush to look over the dress, he just found himself disliking the idea of leaving Dean alone with Bobbi. It wasn't a psychic feeling or a premonition of any sort, just the idea that Dean would do something stupid.

He just had a bad feeling.

Sam still couldn't figure out why Dean had decided not to tell Bobbi about Daniel and Ruth and everything. It was certainly her business, and she would no doubt soon find herself in the thick of it. So why hadn't Dean told her? Was he trying to protect her from it? He of all people should know that's not possible.

With that thought Sam banged his head on the elevator wall, raising a few eyebrows among the people around him.

Dean was protecting Bobbi like Sam had tried to protect Jessica. Not telling her, keeping her in the dark. Hoping that by not knowing she'd be safe.

* * *

Dean opened the door for him and took one of the two bags. Sam hadn't realized how heavy it had been until it was gone.

"You got everything?" Bobbi asked, sitting in the parlor by the door. Sam nodded, noticing where the couch cushion was reforming itself since Dean was gone. Just how close had they been sitting?

"Come on, let's do this thing," Dean was suddenly in that realm between being professional and showing off. Usually Sam would make some sort of joke about him to bring him down a peg, but for Ruth Winchester Sam figured he'd let Dean puff his chest out as much as he wants. Dean led Sam over to the vault where he took the liberty of punching in the code himself. As they entered the vault Sam turned around and didn't see Bobbi following.

"What did you guys talk about while I was gone?" he asked. Dean shrugged.

"Cars, ghosts, bumps in the night," he said, finding the white evening gown still laid on the table top. They set their things down and Sam opened up the Polaroid camera.

"She ask anything more about that picture?" he asked looking at the dress through the camera lens.

"Nope," Dean answered as if he hadn't thought of it himself. Sam took a picture and set it on one of the shelves to develop. Dean got out the black light while Sam dug the digital camera out.

"What do you think about that photograph?" Sam asked, walking over and turning the vault lights out so Dean could use the black light.

"I think Daniel never got to have the seven year itch," he replied. The black light showed nothing on the dress.

"They were married a little over two years."

"Twenty nine months," Dean told him, motioning for Sam to turn the lights back on. He did so and raised the digital camera.

"Whoa…" he said looking at the view screen.

"Something?" Dean asked moving over next to him.

"Yeah, but not from the dress. This place lights up like Christmas," Sam told him. Dean looked and nodded in approval.

"She's got a good collection," he said and walked back over to the bag. Sam turned around slowly in a circle, looking around the vault with the camera.

"I think I can see the soldier she was talking about," he said.

"Anything on the Polaroid?" Dean asked. Sam gave the soldier a small salute and flipped the camera off.

"Let's see…" he said walking over to the shelf with the now developed picture, "yeah, I think you can say that."

He handed Dean the picture. It was of the dress, laid out on the table much like it was. Only in the picture there was a pale blue skeleton inside of it, laying on the table with its arms crossed over its chest.

"Someone was buried in this dress," Sam said.

"Or was supposed to be. I've heard of people taking stuff off corpses before the burial, but her dress? That's just sick…" Dean said handing Sam back the photograph. They both looked at the dress.

"Should we destroy it?" Sam asked, almost reluctantly. Dean sighed.

"Once something like this kills, not a whole lot else is going to stop it," he said, obviously not liking the idea of having to destroy a piece of Bobbi's collection.

"You think it'll go for people who haven't even worn it?"

Dean nodded.

"Bobbi'll be next. It's gotta go."

* * *

"No way!" Bobbi cried and stood up. The brothers sighed and slumped forward. They were sitting in the small foyer, Sam and Dean on one couch across from where Bobbi had been sitting.

"Things like this don't just stop killing. It'll come after someone, it'll come after _you_," Sam tried to explain. It had been a silent agreement between the brothers that Sam would tell Bobbi, not wanting to get her mad at Dean already.

"What's it going to do from inside the vault? That's two inches of _steel_," she said.

"Spirits don't exactly care about walls."

"It can't hurt me if I haven't worn it."

"It can evolve. These things love to change," he said. That seemed to give her pause.

"I'll move it to my alternate vault," she said. It was a good idea, but both Sam and Dean knew it wouldn't be enough.

"Bobbi," Dean said softly, leaning forward, "the girl, the girl whose dress that is. She can't rest until it's gone. She can't move on," he said as gently as Dean can sound.

Bobbi frowned sadly and sat down. There was a moment of silence while she thought about that.

"Can I at least keep the photograph?" she asked, picking said object off the coffee table between them.

"Of course. We can even take more, as many as you like," Dean said smiling at her. She smiled back, it was a sad smile, but real.

* * *

The Impala drove out of Chicago with Sam behind the wheel. Dean sat next to him, punching a new number into his cell phone. They'd both been quiet after leaving Bobbi's penthouse, the dress destroyed and the Polaroid camera in need of new film. Dean seemed almost melancholy, which was odd. He was often serious, or concerned, or confident, but rarely sad. A sad Dean didn't seem to fit in the car, and to Sam he felt like he was driving a paradox on wheels.

"I think you should have told her about Ruth," Sam confessed. Dean heard him, but kept looking down at the phone, not responding.

"She has a right to know," Sam added.

Still Dean didn't react.

"Ignorance isn't going to keep her safe," Sam finally said. At that Dean looked over at him.

"Shut up," he said simply, and turned back to the phone. Sam sighed and focused back on the road in front of them, which he really should have been doing anyway. It was getting dark, and he didn't feel like talking anymore.

* * *

Bobbi was on her knees in the foyer, looking through a collection of photo albums, one she knew to be empty. She just had to find it and she'd have a nice place to keep those Polaroids. Finally she found it and walked on her knees to the coffee table where a large pile of photographs lay. She opened the album and started putting the pictures in. After two or three, she saw the end of a white envelope in the pile of photographs. Curious, she picked it up and looked at it. Her name was written on it so she opened it.

Inside was a piece of paper with two numbers on it.

'Go Here –Dean' was written under them.


	17. The Boy

_**The Boy**_

* * *

"Leon, just come on!" Mrs. Hunt called after her son. She was sitting on a nice spot of grass in a wide-open park, pulling things out of a picnic basket. It was sunny day and children were running all about. Except, of course, for Leon Hunt, a seven-year-old boy standing several feet away from his mother.

He shook his head at her, fear and nervousness in his eyes. Mrs. Hunt sighed.

"Please honey, just sit down with me. You usually love picnics."

"Not there," he said, causing his mother to look around. Maybe there were some dog feces around. Nothing.

"What's wrong with here?" she asked. Leon was quiet for a moment.

"There's a dead body buried under there."

"Oh really?" she asked, not one to take a seven year old very seriously. He nodded.

"I saw it. It's holding onto a book," he said. Mrs. Hunt narrowed her eyes suspiciously, remembering that Leon, while a child, had never actually been one for stories.

"When did you see it?" she asked.

"I can see it now."

* * *

Dean nodded his head and tapped his hand on the steering wheel as he drove. There were times he could listen to music and be completely unaffected, and there were other times when the beat got to him. It seemed to having nothing to do with the song, and everything to do with his mood. He supposed the nodding of his head meant he was in a good mood. He glanced over at his brother, who had taken to reading while Dean wasn't watching. Sam had not thought to put on his soundproof headphones.

"Hey," Dean said, keeping his head still but still tapping the steering wheel, "what are you reading?"

Sam looked up at him.

"Praise of Folly by Erasmus," he answered, expecting that to mean nothing to Dean. He was right.

"What's it about?" Dean asked anyway. Sam thought for a moment of how to explain it.

"It's a satire about the insanity of mankind," he explained. Dean turned back to look at the road. Sam was weird.

"Why are you reading _that_?"

"Well I had started it awhile ago, and wanted to finish it, but I lost my copy."

"You? Lose a book? What, did Hell open up and swallow it whole or something?" Dean thought he was being funny.

Sam just stared at him for a moment.

"I had it in California," he answered. With that, Dean got a good taste of his own foot.

With the exception of one duffle bag of clothes and the laptop, all of Sam's things in California had gone up in flames. Dean cleared his throat.

"So where are we headed?" he changed the subject immediately. Sam book marked Erasmus and got out his laptop.

"There's a little boy in Colmar, Minnesota who knew there was a grave in his local park," Sam explained.

"So?"

"So it was unmarked and a hundred years old, no one else knew it was there. But this kid could see it, he could even see the bible it was buried with," Sam explained. Dean looked over at him, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"You mean we got a kid who sees dead people!" he asked. Sam sighed but nodded. The newspaper article had been titled along the same lines.

"I thought we might be able to help him out."

"Help him? You're Bruce Willis now?" Dean asked. Sam sighed again. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be something that Dean would understand. Sam had grown up with all of the ghosts and ghouls, he knew how it could take any resemblance of normalcy and shred it like tissue paper. He knew what kind of life this kid could be heading to, and he wanted to do whatever he could to stop that from happening.

"Can we just go, please? Or would you rather carry a ghost nun around on your back until you die?" Sam asked, for, indeed, that was their other option. Dean thought for a moment.

"Alright, Minnesota. But you never mention that 'Hell opening up' comment again, got it?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. That seemed fair enough.

* * *

It was rather rainy in Minnesota. Dean and Sam stood by a large mound of earth in the middle of an otherwise green park. Sam held a simple blue umbrella over his head, but Dean was rather wet and didn't really mind. He was crouched by the mound of dirt and moving the EMF meter back and forth over it. Sam watched him through the digital camera.

"I got nothing," Dean said. Sam frowned and turned the camera off.

"Me neither," he said. Dean stood up and a trickle of water slid down his back, causing him to shiver slightly.

"I assume if there were any other bodies around here the kid woulda mentioned them," Dean suggested.

"They identified the body as Walter Potter, died in the early 1900s."

"How'd they learn all of that?"

"It was written in the bible he was buried with," Sam explained. Dean looked around the park for a moment.

"So why is he alone? Bodies usually come in packs."

"This could have been his property, maybe. No family, locals might have just buried him in his backyard. He's been moved to a cemetery now, though. I think there's talk about getting him a plaque," Sam suggested as they began to walk back to the car. Their feet were beginning to get muddy on the softening earth.

"And this kid? Where's he?"

"Leon Hunt, seven years old. He should be at home with his mom."

"Under lock and key, right?" Dean closed the car door shut behind him. He and Sam buckled themselves up, because safety comes first.

"Actually," Sam reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of paper, "she's asking for help."

Dean took the paper and read the online plea. Mrs. Hunt was asking for people who could help her son overcome… whatever it is that was wrong with him. Dean let out a chuckle.

"Asking for help from the paranormal community? Man, there're gonna be a lot of weirdos…" he said and pulled away from the curb.

* * *

The Chevy Impala turned the corner onto Woodland Road. It had stopped raining but the car still moved in and out of large puddles covering the road. The brothers stared in amazement at the large crowd of people gathered around number 345. It had to be at least a hundred people, men and women, young and old. Some were dressed simply, while others wore lavish dresses, shawls, monk's robes, togas, and other suspicious outfits.

It looked like a meeting of the Club for Eccentric Peoples.

Frowning, Dean turned the car down another street, trying to find a place to park.

* * *

With the car safely parked behind a van with a large eye painted on the back, Dean and Sam walked back to the house and mob of people. They maneuvered themselves around various psychics and soothsayers, eventually coming to the porch of the small green house. Hung by the door was a red wheel with a piece of paper hanging out of it. Dean pulled the paper and it proved to be rather small, bearing the number '112.'

"Aw _man_," he whined, showing the paper to Sam. As Sam was frowning at it, the front door opened and a gypsy-looking woman walked out looking rather disappointed. A conservative looking woman with straight brown hair followed her.

"47!" she called out. After a moment a man in a long black cape came onto the porch and tipped his top hat to her.

"How do you do? I'm the Grea-"

"Just come on," the woman hurried him and left into the house. The man quickly followed.

"This is Bull, seriously," Dean complained after the door had closed. Sam could only shrug and look around. What were the chances of anyone here being genuine?

"It's pretty clever, isn't it?" a woman's voice said very obviously to them. The brothers looked over and saw an Asian woman leaning against the porch railing not far from them. She wore a dull gray raincoat and a pair of sunglasses.

"What is?" Sam asked her; mostly to make sure she was really talking to them. It didn't seem like she was looking in their direction.

"The number taker. It's a clever way of doing things," she explained. The brothers looked back at the red wheel before taking a few steps closer to the woman. Sam spotted the long walking cane next to her.

"What number are you?" Dean asked curtly. The woman reached into her pocket and held a piece of paper in front of her.

"Lucy says we're 51, so I guess we must be," she put the paper back in her pocket, almost as if seeing the devious look in Dean's eyes.

"So you're blind?" he asked bluntly. The woman laughed slightly while Sam just shook his head in embarrassment.

"Yeah, completely. But I _can_ see some things," she said suggestively.

"Like what?" Dean asked with the workings of a smile.

"Like you're fly's open," she said. Dean instantly looked down in a panic and the woman laughed loudly.

"I'm sorry! I'm just kidding. That one never gets old, though," she apologized. Dean frowned at her at her and Sam grinned slightly.

"48!" the brown haired woman called from the front door as the caped man sulked down the porch steps.

"It's going to be hard to prove to her I'm the real thing," the woman commented.

"Are you?" Sam asked. She grinned mysteriously for a very drawn out moment. It would have been misleading, if it had lead anywhere.

"If I was it wouldn't be hard to prove it," she finally answered. This disappointed Dean slightly, as the woman was cute, but he didn't much care for people who scammed others for their own gain.

"I don't know, sometimes it's harder to prove the truth than a lie," Sam considered. He meant that, as it now occurred to him that he had no idea of what he was going to say to that kid. Or even what help whatever he'd say would be.

It was at least a moment that Sam looked over to the house and saw a small, sandy haired boy looking at him out of the window. Sam smiled, because children like smiles. After a moment the boy smiled back and waved slightly. Sam waved back.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked him and turned around to look at the window. The boy had disappeared and the curtain was swinging back into place.

"The kid," Sam said.

"What?" the blind woman asked.

"I was just waving at the little boy," Sam explained. The woman didn't seem to like that.

"What number are you guys?" she asked.

"112," Dean answered without having to look at the paper. He could memorize one three-digit number.

"49!" Mrs. Hunt called out from the house again. A man in a turban jogged up the steps to her with a smile that seemed the type to win awards.

"It could be dark by the time you get into to see her," the woman said as if she were trying to sound sympathetic.

Sam looked over to the house again and there was the boy. This time Sam waved first. The boy smiled again and waved back.

"Again?" Dean asked quickly turning around. He got a glimpse of the boy's hand before he was gone.

"He's a cute kid," Sam reassured him. The woman snickered.

"I hate kids. They're all just selfish little… _things_."

"50!" Mrs. Hunt called, watching the turbaned man leave with an angry stare. A woman decked in (fake) gold necklaces and bracelets came up the porch steps.

"Well I'm next!" the blind woman said leaning off the railing. She adjusted her glasses and ran a hand back over her hair. Sam looked over and smiled at the boy once again. Lucy, a plump woman nearing the bottom of the Hill of Life, walked over and placed her hand the blind woman's shoulder.

"Yeah, thanks Lucy," she acknowledged with a nod.

"So what are you going to say to them?" Dean asked.

"Oh you know. That he should think of this ability like a gift, not a curse. That he could do wonderful things with it, like I did," she explained with a shrug.

"And what have you done?" Sam questioned the fraud.

"I don't know, I'll make it up. Then Lucy'll give him some potion or something to help him feel better," she chuckled slightly. The 'potion' was just going to be some diluted cough syrup. The brothers shared a look.

The door to the house opened again and the bejeweled woman stormed out.

"This is us," Lucy said.

Instead of calling out a number, Mrs. Hunt walked out of the house and over to the four of them. All but the blind woman looked at her.

"Excuse me," Mrs. Hunt said kindly, resting a hand on Sam's elbow and glancing back at the window, "my son would like to see you."

This took Sam slightly by surprise, but Dean just grinned like the little boy he was.

"Yeah, sure," Sam told her and she smile. He motioned slightly to Dean to show they were together, and Mrs. Hunt began to lead them both into the house. Before following, Dean patted the blind woman on the arm.

"Don't worry. Just take some potion and you'll feel better," he reassured her and headed into the house.

* * *

It was a nice, cozy looking house on the inside. There were pictures of families, coordinated furniture, and a collection of teapots that would have been of great interest to anyone who cared about teapots. The house smelled of tea and coffee, but you could tell that neither were usually brewed in the house unless company was over.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Mrs. Hunt offered them as she led them into the living room. The little boy was perched on one of the lumpy sofas, his feet not touching the floor.

"No, thanks, we're fine," Sam reassured her with a smile. She nodded and walked over to sit protectively by her son. The brothers took the hint and sat on the sofa opposite them. The boy was till looking at Sam, smiling, so Sam kept smiling back.

"Alright, what do you call yourselves?" Mrs. Hunt asked. After seeing 50 of what she called 'acts,' she was beginning to lose all sense of being open-minded.

"Well, I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean," Sam motioned to Dean who waved briefly in response.

"The rifle family?"

"Same name, but no relation," Sam reassured her. She nodded in understanding.

"Well, what do you have to show us?" she asked, leaning back.

There was an awkward pause.

"Um, well…" Sam said, turning to look at his brother for help. Dean was really only paying half attention and barely noticed Sam looking at him.

"It's your show, Bruce," Dean told him simply. Sam sighed and turned back to the Hunts, remembering to go back to a smile.

"Actually, I'm not sure," he confessed, earning a questioning glance from the mother. It wasn't a bad thing, so far Sam seemed original.

"But, well, you see," there had to be a way for him to look credible without telling them what he and Dean do, "I get feelings, sometimes. A lot of weird, scary dreams that sometimes come true."

Sam was saying this now more to the boy than the mother.

"And I've seen a lot of scary things when I'm awake too, things that are bad, things that are evil, and a lot of the time I'm scared," he confessed, "but I learned about ways I could keep myself safe."

"How?" the boy's voice was small and earnest, but it made Sam's smile widen.

"A lot of different things. Symbols, pendants," he motioned to the pendant Alex gave him for his birthday, hanging around his neck. They didn't need to know it was useless.

"Salt," Dean added. The boy and his mother looked at Dean slightly wide-eyed.

"_Salt_?" they asked in unison, which was sort of cute. He nodded simply.

"Yeah, it repels bad things. Ghosts, demons, most monsters, not vampires, though," Dean seemed truly distraught with that last bit.

"It purifies," Sam elaborated. He did once actually look up the history of salt against evil once, it worked its way through everything from Judaism to Sumo wrestling. He had actually found it rather interesting, but now probably wasn't the time to go too far into that.

"So I can throw salt at what I see and it'll go away?" the boy asked hopefully. At that Sam and Dean shared a glance.

"Only if it moves, kid," Dean decided he'd answer that one. The idea of that happening seemed to frighten the boy considerably.

"But that almost never happens. Most people who die, they're dead," Sam tried to reassure Leon, not that he knew much about the dead remaining quiet.

"What if they don't? What if they move!" the boy asked so fearfully his mother took his hand.

"You know what?" Sam had an idea, and took out a pad of paper and a pen, "if you ever see any of those dead people moving, you call me," he wrote his name and cell phone number on the paper, "and no matter where I am or what I'm doing, I'll come take care of it for you."

He ripped the paper off and handed it to the boy. Mrs. Hunt frowned slightly, would having preferred to keep the number herself, as her son lost everything he touched.

"You'll come right away?" he asked Sam, apparently feeling better.

"Even if I have to hire a plane and fly here," Sam reassured the boy, but scared the hell out of Dean.

"Why should we trust you?" Mrs. Hunt asked them. Sam found himself at a loss for words, so he turned back to Dean for help. The elder Winchester just shrugged in response. Mrs. Hunt scoffed and began to move as if she was about to stand.

"I trust them," Leon said, softly and seriously. Everyone looked at him, slightly surprised.

"But honey…" Mrs. Hunt stopped when her son's eyes turned up to her.

"I trust them, Mommy. They're not like the others," he reassured her. She was quiet for a moment, thinking. Soon she turned to Sam.

"Can I talk to you for a moment, in the kitchen?" she asked him, pointing in the general direction of the room. Sam looked from Dean to Leon, and finally nodded.

As he stood up and followed Mrs. Hunt toward the kitchen, he looked back and saw Dean scoot closer to Leon and pull a coin out of his pocket. He showed it to the boy, waved his hand a bit, and the coin was gone.

Sam smiled as he entered the kitchen. He knew what Dean would do next. He'd pull that coin out of Leon's ear.

That was how Dean had made Sam feel better when they were younger. After facing some horrible creature, Dean would do the one simple magic trick, and it always made Sam smile.

Still does, apparently.

* * *

The Hunt's kitchen seemed to fit in well with the rest of the house. Cozy and warm. The collection of teapots even extended along the tops of cupboards and shelves. Mrs. Hunt asked Sam to sit at the small kitchen table as she opened one of the top cupboards and brought out a good-sized bottle of brandy, filled almost to the top. She then got out a small plastic cup with a Pokemon on it and poured in some brandy. Replacing the liquor bottle, she sat down across from Sam and took a sip from the plastic cup.

She let out a long sigh.

"I know I offered a thousand dollars to anyone who could help Leon, but I don't think a phone number is worth it," she confessed to him. Sam was slightly surprised, as the money had never really occurred to him. He shrugged.

"That's not a problem, I didn't want any of it," Sam made sure to say 'I,' as he was rather positive Dean would have not minded an extra grand. Mrs. Hunt looked at him skeptically, but the look of trust in her son's eyes was still with her.

"Were you guys just jerking us around, about that salt thing?" she asked. He smiled and shook his head.

"No, we weren't. Cultures all around the world use it to ward off evil. It's why you throw spilled salt over your shoulder," he explained. She nodded but still seemed a little wary of that.

"You can look it up online," he added. She was certainly going to do that.

"Well, then I guess we're finished here, um, thank you, Sam," she said, obviously very tired. Sam nodded and stood up. He was just at the door out of the kitchen when he turned to look at her.

"By the way, there's a blind woman out on the porch, number 51," he said. She looked up at him. "She's a scam, don't listen to her."

Mrs. Hunt smiled and nodded. Sam returned the smile and walked off, having just saved the woman a few tiring minutes.

* * *

Leaving Colmar, Minnesota was rather quiet. Sam was checking his e-mail, mostly a lot of spam and one e-mail from Nikki Charles saying she and Alex had made it safely out of a haunted hotel. Something about an elevator of death. Dean was driving with one elbow propped up against the window and his mouth resting on that hand, thinking as he watched the road ahead of them.

"You know what?" he said suddenly, turning briefly to Sam. Sam looked from his computer to him.

"What?" he gave the expected response.

"You're not the only psychic we know," Dean told him. Sam thought for a second and nodded.

"I know. There's Nikki," he said, thinking about the e-mail. Dean's eyebrows furrowed.

"You consider Nikki a psychic?"

"Don't you?"

Dean shrugged.

"Then who were you talking about?" Sam asked him.

"Missouri," Dean answered simply. Sam closed his eyes for a moment and felt like kicking himself in the butt, if that was possible. How did he ever forget about Missouri?

"Right, well, what about her?" he wondered. Dean took a moment to think of how to phrase his thoughts.

"I think we should bring her to that cemetery."

"Which cemetery?" Sam asked. That seemed to surprise Dean more than Sam forgetting about Missouri.

"The one Ruth Winchester is buried in, and that marker."

"You think she can tell us something new?"

"I think it's worth a shot!" Dean said. Sam figured he was right.

"Okay. But you realize that if we do this, Missouri will be in your car," Sam wanted to make sure. Dean frowned but nodded.

"For _hours_. Even _days_," Sam added. Dean's frown intensified but he nodded again.

"That means no naughty thoughts…"

"I know!" Dean blurted, "I can control myself for this!" he tired to sound as confident as he could about that.

Sam sighed and shrugged.

"Alright then, I'll give her a call. How much should I tell her about this?" he asked, aware of how much they were keeping from everyone else. Dean was quiet for a moment as he thought about what his dad would want.

"Tell her everything," he said, almost through his teeth.

"_Everything_?"

"She'd only find out anyway," Dean reminded him. Sam nodded and got his cell phone out.

"Okay, then, I'm calling Missouri."


	18. Dirty Dennis

**_Dirty Dennis _**

* * *

"Man, Mom would have a fit if she knew we were doing this," 11 year old Johnny Bower said, creeping down a darkened staircase in socks and his PJ's.

"I'm beginning to think this isn't such a good thing to do," his 9 year old brother Louis said, following closely behind.

"What are you talking about? This was you idea!" the elder complained. Louis nodded, not having forgotten that.

"I just think we're going to get caught."

"And why's that?"

"Because I think we left the keys in the room."

"You idiot!" Johnny yelled reaching the bottom of the stairs and turning around to his brother.

"Shh!" Louis said flapping his hands to quiet him, "look."

Louis pointed over his brother's shoulder and Johnny turned around. They were now standing in a large room, even bigger than their backyard at home. There were a few round tables and chairs visible, a dark chandelier or two, but most of the room was hidden in the night.

Both boys were both smiling.

"This is so cool, where do you suppose he was killed?" Johnny asked, being followed by his brother as he walked out into the room.

"I'm, I'm not sure," Louis admitted, getting that feeling in his stomach that he sometimes got before things went very wrong. It didn't help that the large, old grandfather clock suddenly began to toll midnight.

* * *

"Alright, I told Missouri we'd be there in a couple of days, and give her at least one day's notice before we arrive," Sam explained, saying things very simply so he could be sure Dean would understand. The elder brother did and nodded his head.

"It shouldn't take us more than a day or two."

"I know, but it seems like whenever we make specific plans something gets in the way and messes them up," Sam explained. If they left things somewhat open they might have a chance of seeing Missouri within the week.

"Yeah, speaking of which…" Dean started after clearing his throat. Sam looked over at him, not exactly optimistic.

"What..?" he asked. Dean seemed to shift nervously in his seat.

"I got a stop to make…" he admitted.

"A stop?"

"Yeah."

"What kind of stop?"

"I gotta check something out, for a friend," Dean said, still keeping his eyes on the road, not wanting to look at Sam. The younger brother looked uncharacteristically confused.

"Nikki or Alex?"

"No," Dean answered indignantly. This confused Sam even more. Dean had other friends? Eve and Sam Apple had always seemed more like family… Missouri was more of an ally than a friend… Who would Dean check into something for?

Suddenly Sam smiled.

"Bobbi Tait?" he asked slyly. Dean kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut. Sam's smile only widened. He was actually hoping that Dean's relationship with Bobbi would go better than Dean's past relationships. If things went better with Bobbi then they did with Cassie Robinson, Sam would be very happy. And so would Dean.

All they had to do was keep Bobbi alive.

* * *

Sam looked up at the ship looming above them. Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot as Sam wondered if he had ever actually seen a Mississippi riverboat before. If he hadn't, well, he had now, and he was rather impressed. It seemed huge to Sam, mostly because he had never seen one before, and he could almost hear 'The Entertainer' coming from inside.

"Did you know that Mark Twain got his name from the riverboat lingo for safe water? 'Mark twain' means that the water is two fathoms deep and safe to go through," Sam said as Dean turned the engine off. Dean looked at him for a moment, his face a total blank.

"You're such a dork," he said and unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. Sam grinned slightly and nodded in agreement.

It took Dean a few steps away from his car to turn back and realize Sam hadn't joined him. He turned around and saw his brother still in the car, buckled in and everything.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked walking back over to the car, so the whole parking lot wouldn't hear him.

"I didn't know if you wanted me to," Sam admitted. If this was Bobbi related, Dean might not have wanted Sam to get involved. Dean just sighed and shook his head.

"Hurry up and come on," he said, walking back over to the steamboat. Sam obeyed and quickly followed.

* * *

The boat, (named the _Catalina_, not that either brother noticed,) looked just as grand on the inside as one would expect. Refurnished and redone dozens of times over to years, the boat now reflected the times of its famous heritage, including paintings of former captains and owners hanging on the walls. One rather large painting was of a man with a large, gray mustache covering most of his face.

Among all of this grandeur was a sense of almost hysteria. At first, Sam thought it was just a feeling he was getting, as he often did now, but as he saw the boat's manager walking over to them, distress all over his face, Sam knew it wasn't just a feeling.

"I-I'm sorry, gentlemen, but we aren't accepting any guests at the moment," the manager apologized. Dean and Sam took another look around and could see the boat was now obviously a hotel.

"No, ah, we're not here to stay. I'm supposed to look at something you have here. My name's Dean Winchest-" Dean started but stopped when the man's face lit up surprisingly.

"Ah yes! For Miss Tait! Wonderful! Wonderful! Come this way, please. Oh, and...?" the man said looking over as Sam.

"Ah, this is my associate," Dean explained. The man nodded and began to lead them out of the lobby. Sam walked up close to Dean.

"'Associate?'" he asked.

"Yeah. We'll get some business cards made later."

* * *

As the manager led the brothers out of the room, that feeling of agitation finally got to the both of them. The few other people they saw were scurrying about with sad looking faces.

"So what's going on here?" Dean eventually asked.

"Nothing," came the reply rather quickly. The brother's shared a glance.

"So why aren't you taking guests?" Sam tried to act like the man wasn't lying to them. The brothers could almost see the man flinch at the question. If they were here on a task for Bobbi, it was likely strange things were afoot.

"Oh, we've just had something dreadful happen," the man sighed, "but it should all be dealt with now that you're here."

At that the brother's shared a concerned glance again.

What exactly had Bobbi gotten them into?

* * *

The portly man closed the door behind them after the brothers entered a small, quaint looking room. Compared to the grand lobby, this room was plain and contained just the bare minimum; a table, a few chairs, and a metal filing cabinet. It was the cabinet the man went to and opened.

"We were glad to hear that Miss Tait was interested in this. We had been looking for a way to get rid of it for quite sometime," the man explained as the brothers sat down. He now seemed almost cheery.

"Yes, well, Miss Tait was glad to hear such a thing was available," Dean said in a tone of voice that told Sam he had no idea what they were about to get. The manager smiled and removed a plain manilla envelope from the cabinet.

So 'it' was smaller than a bread box.

The man closed the drawer and sat across the table from the brothers. He opened the envelope and pulled out a clear plastic bag. Inside was something wrapped in tissue paper.

So 'it' was smaller than a piece of bread.

He opened the plastic bag and began to unwrap the tissue paper. Finally the brothers could make 'it' out.

"A deck of cards?" Dean asked, surprised. The man nodded and placed them in the middle of the table toward Dean.

"This is the deck of cards that killed Dirty Dennis," he said, as if that had some great significance.

"Who's Dirty Dennis?" Sam asked as Dean took the deck of cards in hand.

"He was one of the greatest, and dirtiest, card players the Mississippi ever saw," the manager explained with a pointed looked, "that was the deck of cards he was playing with when he died. His hand is the first five cards on top."

Naturally, Dean slid off the top five cards and flipped them over.

Full house; three aces, two eights.

"Dead man's hand," Dean said showing Sam the cards. Both Sam and the manager nodded. Whenever either brother found themselves holding aces and eights, they'd immediately fold. It was not a hand you wanted to play with.

"We keep trying to sell the deck off, it's a piece of local lore, but some way, it keeps returning to us."

"Is this why dreadful things are happening?" Sam asked and the man paused.

"Yeah, what happened, exactly?" Dean asked. It was obvious that they were not going to let him back out of answering this time.

"Oh, well, I'm afraid we've had guests go missing. Two young boys, I'm afraid. There hasn't been a sign of them anywhere. They just vanished in the night," the man said, shaking his head sadly.

The brothers shared another look.

* * *

Dean was slightly worried at how much he was beginning to like Bobbi Tait. He felt like he kind of owed it to her to pick something up when she asked him to, after giving her the shock of that cemetery. He had sent her to Ruth Winchester's grave, essentially bringing her into all of this, and letting her know that he knew about it too. But now, as it seems, he was really beginning to actually like her.

She had reserved them a room on the _Catalina_, to thank them for helping her out.

It was a nice room, too. Nicer then anything the brothers had seen in awhile. It had a mini bar and everything. Dean spent the first ten minutes just jumping up and down on the soft bed.

They brought some of their things up from the car, clothes, laptop, and so on, but Dean also brought up a tissue box sized black container. He carried it over to the deck of cards idling sitting on a coffee table in their room. Opening it, Dean found what he had expected. Salt, a cross, various runes, a few symbols written on the sides, and a little bottle of holy water.

Safest way to transport haunted artifacts.

Putting the deck of cards in a plastic bag, he placed it in the box and latched it tightly. He even went as far as to tie some twine around it a few times. Eventually it looked like a demented Christmas present.

"Johnny and Louis Bower," Sam said from his laptop. Dean looked over and found his brother already at work.

"And?" he asked, walking up behind Sam.

"They disappeared one night while staying in the hotel. Parents woke up one morning two weeks ago and they were gone. No sign of them anywhere."

"Two weeks and they're still not letting normal guests in?" Dean asked. Sam tried not to view that as him and Dean being abnormal guests.

"I wondered about that too, so I looked up the history of this place. In the past hundred years over 30 people have gone missing," Sam explained. Dean nodded in approval.

"That is _bad _for business," he said, "so what do you think?"

"I think Dirty Dennis isn't resting in peace," Sam answered. There was silence for a moment while Dean looked at the picture of the two boys. Why did they always look so much like him and Sam?

"Well, at least Bobbi's getting something good for her collection."

"So what's the plan?" Sam asked and Dean thought for a moment.

"They disappear at night, right?"

"Yeah."

"So let's get some sleep."

* * *

It was half past eleven as Dean and Sam crept slowly down the darkened stairs. The lights were probably off to deter anyone from venturing around at night. But the Winchester brothers weren't 'anyone,' and venture they did.

"I think my foot's asleep," Dean complained as he felt around for the stairs.

"You can't tell?" Sam asked. Usually when someone's foot was asleep it was rather obvious to them.

"It might be my whole leg," Dean replied. Sam could tell his brother was trying to walk and shake blood into his limb at the same time. It would be a miracle if Dean didn't end up as a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

"Why are we bringing the deck of cards with us, again?" Sam asked, really wondering why they hadn't brought flashlights as well. They should have taken more time to wake themselves up before leaving their room.

"'Cause those cards and whatever's going on here are connected, we might as well see what they do together."

"Fine, but why do _I_ have to carry them?" Sam asked, shifting the box under his arm.

""Cause you're the closest thing I got to a pack mule, now shut up."

* * *

"Ow! Dammit!" Sam cried bending over and picking his left foot up into his hand. He tried to balance on a nearby table as he rubbed his toes. It occurred to him that if they were going to turn walking around in the dark into a regular thing, he should invest in some steel-toed boots. Sneakers just weren't enough protection against all of the things he could stub his toes on.

"I thought I told you to shut up," Dean whispered from somewhere not far off.

"Oh bite me," Sam said putting his foot back on the ground, "how long have we been down here?"

A small blue light came on as Dean checked his watch. He was just across a table neither brother knew was between them.

"About half an ho-" Dean was cut off by a grandfather clock beginning to toll midnight. The brothers were silent as the strong sound echoed throughout the room.

At the 12th toll, the room lit up.

* * *

At first the new light hurt the brothers' eyes, but after they got adjusted they looked around them. The room was as vast as they had expected, with round tables surrounded by chairs and the occasional column to keep the ceiling up. After a moment of noticing that something in the room didn't seem quite, real, the brothers looked up at the chandeliers.

Instead of the normal light bulbs, were gas lamps.

"You boys up for a game?" a deep, brash voice asked. The Winchesters looked over to see a man seated at one of the round tables not far from them. He leaned back with his boots up on the table, and a long, dark coat falling onto the floor around him. The brothers approached and saw a mess of scraggly, tangled black hair around his shoulders, and a long, pale nose sticking out from under the brim of his hat.

"You must be Dirty Dennis," Dean said, reaching him first. The man tilted his head up so Dean could see two beady eyes looking at him from under the hat.

"We gonna play, or not?" he asked, those beady eyes moving over to Sam, to what Sam carried under his arm.

The brothers looked at the black box the cards were in.

"What are the stakes?" Dean asked as Sam gripped the box a little tighter. Dennis shrugged.

"Hell's the limit," he said.

* * *

A pale, skeletal hand reached out from under the coat sleeve and took the deck of cards in hand. The brothers shared a worried look, expecting hellfire to break out when Dirty Dennis touched the cards. But that didn't happen. The ghost just quickly began to shuffle them.

Despite being dead for over a hundred years, Dennis seemed just as skilled at card shuffling as he ever had, and both brothers watched carefully to make sure it was a fair shuffle. It seemed to be.

"Five card draw, dames wild," Dennis said beginning to deal.

"What are we betting?" Sam asked, taking the cards.

"It's a secret," Dennis seemed to be grinning.

"We're not playing unless we know what we're going to win," Sam said as he and Dean set their cards on the table in protest.

"Scared?" the ghost asked. Sam scoffed and looked at him, right into those beady black eyes.

"Don't even try that, man," he said. A dark, hard sound came from Dennis that might have been a chuckle.

"You are. I win, I get you as my new playing partners," he answered.

"Aw, Sam, he just wants friends," Dean said in obvious mockery.

"What do we get when we win?" Sam asked Dennis. The ghost took a moment.

Slowly he reached a hand out and slid the top card off the deck and over toward them. Dean cautiously reached over and picked it up.

"Oh _man_," he said and gave the card to his brother. Sam looked at it and frowned.

It was a Jack, but it was more than that. Instead of the simple drawing, it almost looked like a photograph. It looked like a photograph of a nine year old boy. Sam sighed.

"The Bower kids?" he asked, looking up at Dennis. The rim of the ghost's hat moved to indicate a nod. Sam and Dean glanced at each other before Sam moved the card back across the table and Dennis added it back into the deck.

"Now that y'all know the stakes, let's play."

* * *

Dean had the eight of diamonds, the three of clubs, the ten of diamonds, the king of hearts, and the eight of hearts. It wasn't a bad hand, he figured, a pair of eights. He wasn't sure if he'd bet Sam on it, but it could have been worse.

"What do you want?" Dennis asked him. Dean looked over his cards again and removed the ten and three.

"Two," he answered sending the rejects across the table. Dennis gave him two new ones.

Three of a kind if better than two of a kind.

Sam asked for three cards, and over the years Dean could no longer tell by Sam's face if he liked what he got or not.

In the beginning, Sam wore his hand all over his face. Dean used to beat him so badly. Sam's losings practically paid for the Impala. Over the years, though, Sam got a little more discreet. There was a while when his left eyebrow would tell Dean a little, but now Sam's face was a silent as Dean's. In most cases Dean would be proud of this, but right now he really wanted to know how Sam's hand was.

Dirty Dennis took two and smiled, which both brother knew was purposefully misleading. Or was it?

"Let's see what you got," Dennis said, looking up at Dean.

Of course it was silly to bet your lives on one hand of poker. If this was just some bar, and Dennis was just some yokel, Dean would have laughed and walked away. But those brothers were in trouble, and Dean knew he had to put his life on the line to save them.

It was silly, but it's what Dean did.

"Three of a kind," Dean said placing his hand down. There was no reaction but everyone looking at Sam.

"A pair," he said showing two threes. Dean frowned slightly; at this point he didn't really care if it showed.

He cared even less as Dennis laid down three sixes.

"You lose," he said to Sam, smiling. Naturally, Sam looked alarmed, but then he didn't.

He was gone.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, standing out of his chair and looking around. That dark sound came out of Dirty Dennis again, and he threw a card onto the table. Dean looked down at it. King of spades, but not the king. It was Sam on that card, looking still and lost. Angrily, Dean sat back down, taking the card in hand. He looked up at Dennis, damn well determined to get his brother back.

"One more hand, winner takes all," he said. Dennis's hat tipped again as he nodded and tossed Dean the rest of the deck.

"Your deal."

* * *

Oddly, Dean tried to think of what Sam would do right now. Usually he tried to be himself, but every now and then Sam would creep in.

_Get away while you can_, Sam would say. Dean shook his head. He'd rather spend the rest of eternity as the queen of hearts then do that.

_Then shoot the bastard_, Sam would then say. Dean still needed Dennis to get Sam out.

_Shoot the card_, Sam would say next. No, that was too risky.

_Then think of something on your own!_

Dean wanted to frown but didn't. If the Sam in Dean's head didn't know what to do, than the Dean in Dean's head certainly wouldn't.

He picked up the deck of cards and began to shuffle, not liking the idea of mixing his brother in with the rest. Dean took a deep breath and thought a little bit more. He did have an idea. It was incredibly risky, but an idea none the less.

For some reason, possibly by tremendous foresight, John Winchester had taught his sons how to cheat. 'If you ever have to,' he had said, 'this is how you stack a deck.'

Knowing Dennis would be watching his hands, Dean was careful. Even if he got away with this, even if Dirty Dennis ended up with the hand Dean wanted, there was no guarantee this would work.

The ghost was silent as Dean dealt. Five each. Dean looked down at his hand carefully. He had Sam, he got that right. He looked up as Dennis placed the last card into his hand. Nothing happened. Maybe Dean had gotten it wrong.

"What do you want?" he asked, swallowing hard. Dennis tossed one card across the table. Without showing any sign of worry, Dean tossed him the first card off the top. Dennis reached over and put it in his hand without looking at it.

Everything went dark.

Dean sat there in the darkness for what felt like a very long time. Eventually the room lit back up and Dean looked up at the chandeliers.

Light bulbs.

Quickly he looked back at the table and didn't see Dirty Dennis anywhere.

Instead he saw a small, sandy haired boy seated around the table. The boy looked at Dean wide-eyed for a moment before turning his head. Dean turned too and saw another little boy, slightly older but very similar looking. Sitting next to him, was Sam.

Dean let out a sigh of relief and sunk into his chair.

"What just happened?" Johnny Bower asked.

* * *

It was never fully explained to the parents where their sons had gone, but they were just so glad to have them back they didn't seem to care. Ghost stories abounded around the _Catalina_, but that was nothing new for the staff. Everyone was just so glad that things might possibly be alright now that they didn't care to ask 'why?'

Dean had taken what he knew to be the easy way, and FedExed Bobbi the deck of cards. He had still wrapped them in crosses and salt packets and other charms, of course. He had also added a note telling her that under no circumstances was she ever to play with the deck.

"I don't believe you cheated a ghost," Sam said as they drove along the turnpike, getting away from the Mississippi as fast as they could.

"It worked, didn't it?" Dean defended himself.

"I know, I just don't believe you _got away with it_." Sam clarified. Dean gave him a quick glance.

"You doubted my cheating ability? You, of all people? You know better then anyone how good I am at tricking people," Dean said and Sam nodded, figuring that was so. Dean did have quite the dishonest background.

"I guess. So, should I give Missouri that day's notice?" he asked. His brother was silent for a moment but finally nodded.

"Yeah, you'd better," he said and Sam got out his cell phone. The last thing Dean needed was to be yelled at for lack of warning.


	19. The Beast: part 4

_**The Beast: part 4**_

* * *

How many was it? Hundreds now? Thousands? It all seemed like so many names, so many dates. They all seemed to blur together in his mind. Faded names, faded people. But he can't think of it like that, they weren't people, they weren't good. He was good; he had done what he was supposed to do. 

"Samuel, supper's almost ready," a soft, female voice called to him. He crossed a T and turned around to look briefly at the blonde woman.

"I'll be right there," he said. She nodded and left. Taking the pen again in hand, Samuel Winchester turned back to the book.

_November 2nd, 1855_, he wrote. Sighing, he closed the book and went to supper.

* * *

"It's about time," Dean complained from the driver's seat. Sam sighed as he walked across the parking lot over to his brother's car. He had been able to feel his brother's anxiousness all the way in the gas station bathroom. 

"I peed as fast as I could, Dean," Sam told him, walking around the car to the passenger seat. The brothers were already in Kansas, heading west toward Lawrence. In another hour or so they would be there.

"Well pee faster next time, come on!" Dean hurried Sam along as the younger sat down next to him.

"Why are _you _in such a hurry to-" Sam was cut off for a moment as the car lurched forward, "get there, anyway?"

"I just wanna get this over with," Dean confessed as Sam buckled himself in. If Dean was in a hurry, a seatbelt is required.

"What do you think she'll be able to tell us, anyway?"

"I dunno, something. You didn't see anything, did you?" Dean asked, the idea occurring to him.

"At the cemetery?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. Sam thought for a moment about that graveyard. He remembered the look on Daniel Winchester's face, that sobbing coming out of Nikki… He knew it was Daniel, but it seemed so much like Dean.

"I think you got more out of that then I did," Sam told him the truth. Dean looked at him wide eyed for a moment.

"Hey! You're the freak here, not me," Dean corrected him. Sam rolled his eyes and looked out the window. They passed a sign and Sam leaned over to look at the speedometer.

"You're like, thirty miles over the speed limit, Dean," he said.

"So?" Dean's voice was unruffled.

"So you're going to get us pulled over."

"Not if they can't catch us."

* * *

Just as it had before, it surprised Dean that their old house was still standing. He wasn't entirely sure what he expected to find; smoldering ruins, a crater, the gate to the underworld, something along those lines. But there it stood, a pleasant, innocent looking white house, filled with the laughter of children and all that stuff. 

Dean had to wonder if maybe the house wanted the same life Sam did.

The Winchester brothers drove by the house in silence, both noticing it, but neither wanting to acknowledge it was really there.

* * *

They were a little late getting to Missouri's. At least by her clock. They were both full grown men, of course, but under Missouri's eyes they felt like they were six and had just accidentally broken a window. They hadn't even gotten up the porch steps yet. 

"It was Sam's fault…" Dean told a spot on the sidewalk.

"I don't care whose fault it was. You say two o'clock you should be here at two!" she told him.

"Yes ma'am," they both muttered. Did she do this to their father, too? No wonder he had them meet Eve and not her.

Missouri surveyed them for a moment longer, making sure they'd never be late anywhere ever again.

"Would you like something to drink? I bought the brand of coffee you like, Dean," she asked, turning her back to them and walking into the house. For a moment the brothers looked at each other before hurrying up the stairs after her.

* * *

Over the phone Sam had explained just enough to get Missouri to agree to go with them. Now, however, as they sat in her living room drinking Dean's favorite brand of coffee, he filled her in on the rest. He explained about Samuel and Daniel Winchester, Joanna and Ruth, even Bobbi. He told her about the cemetery and the mysterious gravestone. 

Missouri took all of this in like a woman who had seen everything. Her face was serious but calm, and she nodded her head in understanding. They had noticed it before, and again now, that Missouri was a woman who was very much in control. Not just of herself, but of the situation at large. Dean would wait to think this when Missouri wasn't around, but that might be the reason he and Missouri seemed to butt heads. They both wanted to be top dog.

She made him look like a pup.

Leaning back in her chair, Missouri let out a long sigh when Sam was done. Though neither brother was telepathic, they both knew she was wondering what John would think of all this.

"How long is the trip?" she asked, standing up and straightening her shirt.

"About five hours," Dean answered as he and Sam stood up too. Missouri looked up at Dean questioningly.

"And if you _don't_ speed?" she asked. Dean paused.

"Six and a half…" he confessed. She nodded and headed toward her luggage, already set at the bottom of the stairs. It was only two suitcases and Sam picked them both up like a good boy.

* * *

Because fear motivates manners, Dean opened the door to the back seat of his car for Missouri. She thanked him and got in as Sam closed the trunk lid after putting her things inside. As the brother's walked around to get into the car, Missouri's eyes narrowed in concern. She put a hand on the seat belt to buckle herself in but stopped. 

Something felt wrong.

"What?" Dean asked, buckling himself in and seeing her face in the rear view mirror. Sam looked behind him and saw Missouri trying to think of quite how to put it.

"There's, there's something back here," she said, getting the men's full attentions.

"What 'something?'" Dean asked, not liking the idea of something in his car. She shook her head, trying to get a hold of it.

"It's gone now, but it was here for awhile. It feels like," she shifted slightly, "a woman."

The brothers glanced at each other.

"It's probably just Alex or Nikki Charles," Sam suggested to her. She shook her head, having been told about the sisters.

"No, this is something evil."

"Probably just Alex then," Dean joked. Missouri shook her head again; too uncomfortable to tell Dean he wasn't funny.

"A spirit, something you can't touch," she explained. While Dean seemed to be trying to ignore this, Sam was growing concerned.

"Would you like to sit up here?" he asked her. She really seemed to be very troubled. Her eyes met his and she nodded.

"If you wouldn't mind," she said opening her door and getting out. Sam did the same and closed the front passenger seat door after she was in.

When Sam was situated in the back, he looked up and saw Dean and Missouri watching him patiently. It took him a moment to figure out what they wanted.

"I don't feel anything," he reassured them. They nodded and faced forward.

Dean started the engine and they were off.

* * *

Dean wasn't entirely sure when Sam dozed off in the back seat, but he was aware that Missouri had been looking at him on and off for the past hour. He didn't have the courage to look at her while she was doing it, but he could just tell she had a 'look.' 

"What?" he finally turned and asked her not long after they passed into Colorado. Missouri, who had long known he noticed her looks and had been waiting for him to say something, kept her face stern but gentle.

"So this Bobbi girl, what do you think?" she asked, looking forward at the darkening road.

Dean had to pause to make sure he had heard her right.

"_What?_" Dean asked.He had not been at all ready for Missouri to ask him about his love life.

"_What do you think_? I'm not speaking Latin here boy!" she said loud enough to get her point across but not disturb the slumbering Winchester in the back, even though he did have his knee digging into the back of her seat. Dean sighed and concentrated on the road again. He was getting pretty good at navigating Colorado.

"I dunno," he shrugged, "she's alright."

"Is she nicer than Cassie?"

"Now who told yo-?" Dean began but stopped. It was pointless to ask Missouri how she knew about something. She just did. He shrugged again.

"I dunno. They're different," he confessed again. Missouri smiled slightly and looked back at the road too.

"Are you scared?"

"Of what we might find at the cemetery? Hell no," he said with a slight snort.

"Of falling in love again," she corrected him.

They shared a soft glance, and were silent for the rest of the trip.

* * *

There's something about the sound of screeching tires that everyone recognizes. Even if it comes from around the corner, out of sight, they hear that sound and just wait for the collision of cars to meet. For Missouri, she heard the tires, but not the collision. 

That she saw.

She looked over and saw the great blaring lights of a large vehicle coming straight at her. She went to grab at the handle to her car door, trying to escape, but there was no time. The horn was so loud and the lights were so bright she couldn't move, she couldn't…

"Missouri!" Dean's voice yelled and Missouri woke up with a start. Taking a few deep breaths she looked around her. She was in the passenger seat of the Impala, safe and sound. The car was stopped in a parking lot. It was already dark. She looked over at Dean, who was leaning in his window to look at her.

"Wh-what?" she asked him.

"We're here. I got us some rooms for the night; we'll go to the cemetery tomorrow. Here," he said and handed her a hotel room key. She looked behind him to the small motel they'd be staying at. She could see Sam climbing some of the stairs with a few bags. Turning back to Dean she nodded.

"Alright, thank you."

* * *

"Are you sure it's a left? No, no. Yeah, I know that road. With the weird tree thing, right? Okay. Okay. No. Okay," Dean said into the telephone. Sam sat on the end of his bed, flipping through the channels on the television, keeping an ear on Dean. The elder was on the phone with Alex Charles checking to make sure he remembered the way to the cemetery. Neither brother felt Alex was really a reliable source for directions, but Dean really was going to feel better if he could convince himself he was sure of the way there. 

"Okay, yeah, I got that. No, I got that Alex. Where do I go after that? No, _after_," Dean continued. Sam had to smile slightly. He had a feeling that if Nikki could, she would be able to tell them how to get there with wonderful clarity. A good thing about being mute is everyone can assume you'd be eloquent if you only had the chance.

Finally Dean sighed and closed his cell phone. He was quiet for a moment, getting things sorted out in his head.

"News says sunny skies for tomorrow," Sam told him, turning the TV off. Dean looked over at him and nodded.

"At least one thing won't go wrong," he said, obviously not helped at all by Alex. It seemed as though all of this was beginning to weigh heavily on Dean. Not that it had even been easy, but things seemed to be ganging up on him recently.

"It's a good idea, asking Missouri for help. It'll work, we'll get something from this," Sam wanted to reassure him. Dean looked at him again and nodded.

"Yeah well I hope so."

"Come on, let's get some sleep. We got a big day tomorrow," Sam said hitting the lights and crawling into bed. He heard Dean's boots hit the ground and Dean climbing into the other bed.

There was silence as both brothers lay in the darkness.

"Do you ever worry that one day we'll actually catch up to this thing?" Dean asked suddenly. Sam had to pause, wondering if he had heard his brother correctly.

"Good night Dean" Sam replied and that was all.

* * *

There were sunny skies the next day; in fact it was very beautiful out. It was the kind of day that made someone who had no interest in the sport want to go out and play baseball. An hour after leaving the motel, Dean pulled the car to a careful stop alongside a small cemetery. Neither brother needed to tell Missouri that this was it, looking over the old stones and tall grass desperately in need of a mowing, Missouri could just tell. 

Understandably a bit nervous, the three remained in the car for a few moments, watching the cemetery. Missouri was waiting for a sign, for something to tell her if this was a good idea or a bad one. The brothers were waiting to see if someone unexpected might show up.

A small, yellow butterfly flew over and landed briefly on the rearview mirror outside of Missouri's window. It batted its wings and few times, seemed bored, and flew off.

"Come on, let's go," Missouri said unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. The brothers followed.

* * *

It didn't really surprise anyone when Missouri marched right over to Ruth Winchester's tombstone. Looking at it, both brothers could again hear Daniel Winchester's sobs. Dean cleaned his throat and looked away from the stone. 

"You feel anything?" he asked Missouri casually.

"It's a cemetery, Dean, I feel lots of things," she replied. Narrowing her eyes slightly, Missouri took a step onto Ruth's grave. Carefully she took another one, and began to outstretch her hand. When she could, Missouri placed her hand on the old stone grave marker.

She heard Dean yelling. He was crying out, but he was far away. Missouri couldn't get to him; she needed to get to him. Fire. Missouri was surrounded by fire. It was everywhere. It was so hot. She couldn't see anything…

Missouri stumbled back a few steps and Sam caught her before she fell over. Catching her breath she looked around. Back in the cemetery, everything was safe. She stood up properly and let the brothers know she was alright.

"What'd you see?" Dean demanded. She took another moment to regain herself and looked at him.

"Fire," she said simply, but with a point. While that didn't necessarily surprise any of them it was still very important. Dean sighed and took a step away from the grave.

"So Ruth was killed by the same thing that killed Mom and Jess?" Sam asked. Missouri shrugged.

"I don't know. All I saw was fire, everywhere, it surrounded me," Missouri explained, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Well that's gotta be it! This thing is… is…" Sam tried to think.

"Killing the women that we love," Dean finished for him. Sam shook his head.

"But _why_? What's the point of it?" he demanded. Dean just looked at him calmly, and sadly.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," he reassured his little brother. Sam, despite all of the lies Dean had said in his life, believed him.

"Alright then, where's this other stone?" Missouri said, having sufficiently collected herself.

* * *

The grass that had grown quickly in the cemetery seemed to have been going for a record at the forest line. While each brother was fairly certain they remembered where they had found the dated stone, they still wandered around a bit before Sam hit it with his toe. 

_November 2nd, 1857._

"I found it!" he called and Dean quickly joined him, followed by Missouri. For a moment they looked down at the small square of stone. It seemed rather sad. Almost like it had been lost and forgotten. Missouri frowned and took a deep breath. Subconsciously, she stretched the muscles in her arms slightly, like an athlete preparing to go before the judges. After closing her eyes and saying a slight prayer, Missouri knelt and placed her hands on the stone.

Fire.

Why is everything so cold?

It's so dark.

Martha!

It's getting darker.

No!

Martha!

Don't leave me!

So much fire.

_Martha_!

Why is it so cold?

There were hands on Missouri's shoulders that pulled her down and she landed on the ground that seemed to get harder every year. Blinking herself back, she looked up at Sam and Dean, who had pulled her from the tombstone. She took a few deep breaths and looked around at the forest. Was she trembling? She felt like she was trembling…

"Are you okay?" Sam asked her worriedly.

"You looked like you were about to go Carrie on us or something," Dean said, the worry less evident in his voice. Missouri took a few more deep breaths and nodded to them.

"Yes, yes I'm fine. It was just- just _serious_," she reassured them.

"Why? What'd you see?" Sam tried to ask like he didn't desperately want to know. Missouri took a moment, still sitting there in the grass, trying to arrange everything so it would make sense.

"It's a woman," she pointed to the tombstone, "Martha. Her name was Martha. And she, she burned…"

"You mean it killed her too!" Dean demanded. Missouri shrugged and the brothers helped her to her feet. As nice as it is to have two strapping young men helping you out, Missouri could remember being able to get off the ground on her own.

"I don't know. I'm sorry boys I just don't know," she apologized.

"Hey you got us a name, that's more than we had before," Sam reassured her. He was also kind of reminding Dean about that.

"Did you get a last name?" Dean asked, realizing she had really helped them, even if by giving them more questions. She shook her head again.

"Just Martha. I couldn't hear anything more," she said and there was a pause, "that's a good idea, let's go back to the car."

Missouri started to walk off, leaving the brothers to wonder which of them had thought that.

* * *

"You know, I was thinking," Dean started and took a bite out of his pizza. Later that night the Winchesters and Missouri had ordered out a pizza and now sat in Missouri's room around it. Apparently Missouri was a pineapple kind of person. 

"Abo' who dish-" Dean continued.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Missouri warned him, cutting up her pizza slice with her fork. Dean frowned but finished chewing and swallowed. He made the gulp as loud as possible, just to annoy her.

"I was thinking about who Martha might be…" he said clearly now.

"What'd you come up with?" Sam asked.

"Well," Dean put his pizza down, "I think it's Mom."

There was silence.

"What on Earth makes you think that?" Missouri asked him.

"Well look at the names. Ruth to Roberta. Daniel to Dean. Samuel to, well, Samuel," he gave Sam a shrug.

"They begin with the same letter…" Sam realized. Why hadn't he caught on to that before? Why had _Dean_?

"But why Mary?"

"We don't know anyone else whose name begins with M," Dean said simply and took another bite.

There was another pause as Missouri glared at him angrily.

"What?" he asked, noticing 'the look.' She shook her head.

"Boy, it's a good thing you're not as dumb as you act," she told him.

Dean didn't understand.

* * *

Missouri let out a sigh of relief as she sat down on her porch swing. She moved back and forth slightly and the swing made the creaking noise it always did. 

"Oh it is good to be home," she sighed as Dean set her suitcases down by her feet.

"You were only gone three days," he told her. She nodded and smiled knowingly at him.

"That's still a long time to be away from home," she said. Dean shrugged and buried his hands in his coat pockets. 'Home' wasn't a concept he was entirely familiar with. He did miss his car if he was gone from it for awhile, though.

"Hey, listen," he began, "about what we were talking about before…"

Missouri gave him a questioning look.

"I'm not afraid," he said like he was trying to sound certain. Really, she didn't have to be psychic to know he was trying to convince himself.

"Well you should be," she said and he looked at her, a little surprised, "love is a scary thing, boy. It'll tear you to pieces without batting an eye."

Dean didn't look quite so certain anymore.

"But it's worth it," she reassured him, pointing at him to drive the fact in, "now Sam wants you."

Dean turned around and saw his brother walking toward the porch, carrying a cell phone.

"It's Bobbi, she wants to talk to you-" Sam began to explain but was cut off as Dean grabbed the phone and carried it away back toward the car, away from prying ears. Sam smirked as he walked up the porch steps.

"Cute, isn't it?" Missouri asked when he was in front of her. Sam turned to the woman and nodded.

"Yeah, and good for him. I just hope things don't end like they did with Ruth," he confessed. Missouri nodded knowingly again.

"I'm sure you'll solve everything before that happens," she said. Sam looked not so certain. He would have felt better if Missouri was precognitive too.

"Yeah well I hope so," he sighed and scratched the back of his head. Missouri smiled sweetly and stood up.

"Now you boys take of each other, and don't be afraid to visit," she said extending her hand to him. He smiled and shook it.

"See you soon, Missouri," he said. She nodded and he headed down to Dean and the Impala.

"Get in," the elder instructed. Sam got into the passenger side and Dean slammed the driver's door after he was in. Missouri waved as the car drove off, and Sam waved back.

"So what's up?" Sam asked once the woman was out of sight.

"Bobbi found a place outside of Raleigh she thinks we should look into," Dean explained. Sam nodded in understanding.

"So, Bobbi…" he said and Dean looked over at him, "is she like our paranormal pimp now or something?"

Dean continued to glare at him for a moment longer before turning to the road.

"Shut up," he said and Sam chuckled.


	20. Party

_**Party**_

* * *

"Oh will you look at this room! It's absolutely gorgeous! I told you it was worth the extra money!" Kent Ashbaugh exclaimed excitedly looking around the room. Tia, or Mrs. Ashbaugh as she'd be called from this day forward, watched her new husband with calm dissatisfaction. As cute as he could be when he acted like a little boy, an inn room with a chimney really wasn't something to get so excited about.

"Look at this! Have you ever seen a chimney before?" he asked admiring the fine brick work. Tia rolled her eyes when he wasn't looking.

"My grandmother had one in her house," she answered. He didn't seem to hear her.

"Hey it's already dark out. What do you say we spend our first night together in front of the fire?" he asked, finally looking at her. He had that puppy dog expression that she loved so much and she smiled and took a step over to him.

"But we don't have any marshmallows," she said with the sly grin on her face he loved. They continued advancing to each other until she was practically in his arms.

"I'm sure we can find something else to do," he said and leaned in close to her.

Their sweet kiss was cut short by a crunching sound coming from the chimney that could only be classified a grotesque.

"Did you touch something?" Tia asked him as they turned to look at the still chimney. He shook his head.

"Just the mantle. There shouldn't be any-" the sound cut him off. It was louder this time, and sounded like someone chewing on wet bone.

"What _is_ that?" Tia asked, getting slightly frightened. Her grandmother's chimney did not make sounds like that.

"I dunno, maybe something fell down it…" Kent said, walking over to it. He only did this because he was a man, and so if something was wrong he was obligated to try and fix it, even if he had no idea what he was doing.

"Well be careful," she warned, because women worry.

Kent only got a few feet away from the fireplace when the sound came again. This time it was louder and seemed to be in a hurry. And it continued, it lasted longer than it had before.

Suddenly something fell onto the unused logs.

Kent backed away for a moment, but when the object didn't move he chanced a step closer to it. Grabbing a poker, he moved the motionless thing.

Tia's scream shook the inn.

* * *

Banging your head with the beat and still being able to clearly see the road is a skill Dean had honed over the past ten years. Sam would be glad to know it worried their father just as much as it worried him, but it was something Dean was actually good at. The younger opted for reading. It was still daytime, so he didn't have to worry about having enough light to see by. That was often a problem for him. Dean didn't like having the lights on in the car at night because he didn't like people being able to see in, so Sam either had to read during the day, or struggle with a book and flashlight at night.

"Dude, what are you reading now?" Dean suddenly asked. Sam took a moment before looking up from his book, not sure if Dean had really spoken until he saw his brother looking at him.

"Oh, ah, Voltaire," Sam said holding up his copy of Zadig. Dean looked at it but quickly turned back to the road, rather uninterested.

"Is that one of those smart books?" he asked. Sam had to think about that for awhile. He wasn't entirely sure what Dean would classify as a 'smart book.' Sure it was a satire about the foolishness of religious orthodoxy in 18th century…

"Yes," Sam answered. Dean nodded, not entirely surprised.

"You're not going to fill my car with books, are you?" he asked. Sam smiled slightly, he wasn't entirely sure why, and shook his head.

"Nah. I wouldn't want to disrupt your Playboy collection," he said. Dean nodded again, still watching the road.

"Good," he said and there was a moment of quiet. Sam hadn't even noticed the music being turned off. That usually meant Dean felt like talking.

"So what's in North Carolina?" Sam asked. The elder Winchester actually seemed to brighten up with that.

"Bobbi said there's a B and B with a, I'm quoting Bobbi here, 'troublesome room.' Apparently anyone who stays in it either disappears or runs out screaming during the night," Dean explained. Sam nodded in approval, it seemed like it could be their kind of thing. That, or the B and B had a serious rodent problem.

"What do the screamers say?"

"The ones that don't go loony? They say a head fell outta the chimney."

"A head?"

"Yeah, a human head."

"It falls out of the chimney?"

"Right into the fireplace," Dean answered and there was more contemplation.

"Well that's weird…" Sam said and Dean chuckled slightly at the understatement.

"Yeah, to say the least."

"What's Bobbi want out of this?" Sam asked. Dean gave him a brief and blank glance. He didn't think it was nice for Sam to think about Bobbi's motives. She had given them a lead, what else was important?

"The head…" he answered softly.

"The whole head!"

"It'd be nice…" Dean was being slightly meek. Now Sam chuckled and shook his head, looking out the window.

"You know most guys get their girlfriends flowers or something, not a _human head_," Sam explained. Dean shrugged and gave Sam his wicked smile.

"I'm not like most guys."

* * *

Pulling up to the Oakwood Inn, Dean was surprised at how cute it was. Actually, he was surprised he even used the word 'cute.' But the small inn was, there just wasn't another word for it. It was small and white with pink trimming and a dark red roof. The brick walkway leading up to the front entrance was bordered by well trimmed rose bushes.

"Aww," Dean said as they stood in front of the building.

"Shut up," Sam said and started up the walkway. He knew that Dean was preparing to mock the life he wanted. That 'normal' life. The older brother seemed to have the impression that normal life was easy and therefore boring.

Because of the strong homey feeling the building gave off, both brothers found themselves pausing at the front door, a little confused. If it were a hotel, they would just walk in. If it were a residence, they would knock. But this inn seemed to be both, and that left the brothers confused over the proper etiquette.

"Well go on!" Dean insisted, trying to hide his confusion.

"Why me? You do it," Sam likewise did not want to be found out.

"Dude, just do it!"

"Why won't you?"

"Stop making such a big deal outta this and go ahead!"

"I'm not the one making a big deal out of this."

"Then go ahead."

"You go ahead."

"Sam! Do it!"

"What's wrong with you doing it?" Sam asked. Dean's response was cut short by the door opening. A small, ten year old girl stood there glaring up at them angrily.

"You can just come in," she told them, obviously dismayed by their actions. She shook her head slightly in disbelief and walked back into the room, leaving the door opened for them. They watched her long, straight, dirty blonde hair held back by a headband sway from side to side as she walked away. It swayed because she walked with a rather nasty looking brace on her left leg. The brothers shrugged and walked in after her.

The girl sat down behind a white wooden desk that, along with everything else in the room, was clean and adorable. Dean looked around and grimaced spotting the flowers and the collection of Teddy bears in one corner. It looked like the kind of house that doilies were made for.

"Can I help you?" the girl asked them, not bothering to act friendly.

"Yes, actually. We'd like a room," Sam said, smiling slightly to show he wasn't as weird as she seemed to think. She nodded and opened up a ledger and began to look through it.

"Oh, uh, can we request a room?" Sam asked. The girl gave him a questioning glance but nodded.

"Which one?"

"The honeymoon suite," Dean told her, walking away from a Teddy bear he was positive was watching him. At that the little girl looked from Sam to Dean and back rather suspiciously.

"You could have done better," she told Sam, making no attempt to hide it. Sam grinned slightly and Dean rolled his eyes.

"It's not like that," Sam corrected her. She eyed him for a moment but seemed to believe him in the end.

"In that case you'd better give up, they never last," she said. The Winchester brothers looked at her rather oddly.

"What never last?" Dean asked.

"The ghost hunters," she explained. They looked at her oddly again.

"What ghost hunters?" Sam asked, leaning over slightly so he'd be closer to her height and not so intimidating.

"After that story got in the newspaper, about the chimney, the ghost hunters have been coming in droves asking for that room. They bring all of these weird electronic stuff, looking for 'cold spots' and stuff. It's ridiculous, and they never last. They get scared out just like everyone else. But sometimes," her face took a rather creepy expression, "they disappear."

The brothers shared a glance at each other.

"Is it available?" Dean asked. She sighed but nodded. Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Taking a credit card out he threw it toward her. Picking the card up, she sighed, and looked at Sam the way someone looks at a person who's about to die.

* * *

Dean was informed by his brother that asking the little, brace-clad girl to carry their things was a more than bad idea. So each brother now carried his own duffel bag down the hallway as the girl swayed along ahead of them. She stopped in front of a door bearing a nice metal sign reading 'Honeymoon Suite,' and dug around in her pocket for a moment. After pulling out a small brass key, she opened the door and motioned the brothers inside.

The room was just as the brothers expected. Flowery and cute. The quilt on the queen sized bed matched the wallpaper, which matched the vases of fake flowers, which matched the collection of dollies sitting on a rocking chair in the corner.

The girl made sure the brothers seemed adjusted to the room before placing the key on one of the desks.

"Check out is at noon, or before, if you get scared. We aren't responsible for any loss of property or traveling companions," she said glumly and left them alone, closing the door slowly behind her, making it creak on purpose. After they heard her carefully clunking down the stairwell they turned to the chimney.

"It doesn't _look_ evil," Sam commented looking the mantel place over.

"Yeah well, the things that look safe are usually the most dangerous," Dean replied. Sam thought about that and nodded in agreement.

For some reason he thought about kittens. So cute, so very, very evil.

Dean moved the logs out of the fireplace and carefully lay on his back and looked up the chimney. He could see some light coming down it.

"Get me a flashlight," he instructed and Sam gave him one out of his pocket. Dean flicked it on and searched the chimney. It needed to be cleaned. Sam walked over to his brother's duffle bag and dug out the EMF meter. Turning it on he walked over to his brother.

"EMF is going crazy," he said. Dean wasn't surprised as he sat up, careful not to hit his head.

"It's cold, too, but that can just be because it's dark and drafty," he said. Sam nodded as he walked around the room with the meter. Readings were highest at the fireplace, but rather active in the middle of the room, too.

"So are we just thinking it's a ghost?" Sam asked. Dean stood up and shook the soot and ash off his pants.

"Yeah, I think so," he said turning around and trying to see how dirty his back was. He ended up taking his jacket off and brushing the dirt off it that way.

"Well we'll have to wait until dark before anything happens," Sam said turning the EMF meter off and slumping down into a very uncomfortable and tacky looking chair. He watched Dean dusting his jacket for a moment.

"So how is Bobbi doing?" he asked casually. Dean paused and glanced over at him.

"She's fine…" he answered and went back to his jacket.

"I was thinking, maybe this time we could take her the head personally, instead of mailing it to her," Sam suggested. In addition to getting Dean and Bobbi together, it would prevent Sam from having to figure out how to wrap a human head, something he'd really like never to do.

How many stamps does a head need, anyway?

"I guess we could," Dean said nonchalantly. He set the jacket down on the bed and looked around the room briefly.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Dean said grabbing his bag and heading over to a door. He opened it to reveal a closest. He closed that and opened a different one and entered the bathroom. Sam nodded and ran a hand casually down his chin.

He frowned and looked at his hand as if it offended him.

He'd have to shave when Dean got out.

* * *

Even the bathroom was cute, and Dean enjoyed closing the shower curtain behind him, blocking the offense view. Even the damned toilet paper had flowers on it. He was surprised when the water came on already warm, and he figured the water pipes must be next to heating pipes. It surprised him a little to think of heating pipes in North Carolina.

After wetting his hair and just as he was about to lather with honey scented shampoo, he heard his cell phone ringing.

"God damn it!" he muttered turning the water off and reaching out from behind the shower curtain for his pants. He dug around and found his phone.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Hey Dean! It's Alex and Nikki. Where are you?" Alex's Alabaman voice greeted him. Dean had to think of just how to answer her. Some how 'Standing naked in the shower,' didn't seem like a proper response.

"North Carolina."

"Aw, damn. We're in Oregon," Alex said. He could hear her turn her head and tell Nikki where he was.

"Well that would be far away. Can I help you with something?" he was getting cold.

"We found something you and Sam should look at," her voice seemed rather serious.

"What is it?"

"It's creepy," she answered. Dean frowned angrily.

"And…?"

"Well, it's a photograph," she told him. At first his mind went to the prophetic camera that had predicted him getting shot, but then he thought about two other photographs he'd seen recently.

"Of what?" he asked carefully.

"Of… Of something it can't possibly be of…" now her voice seemed tense.

"We can meet you in Lincoln, Nebraska in…" Dean thought about how long it'd take him to get there if they stopped off to see Bobbi first, "how about a week? Next Friday?"

"We can make that. We'll be on time," she reassured him. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, okay. I'll tell Sam, we'll see you guys there."

"Alright. Thanks Dean."

"See ya later."

"Bye."

Dean closed his cell phone and lightly tossed it back on his pants. Closing the shower curtain again he turned the water back on.

It was cold.

* * *

The little girl sitting behind the desk in the lobby was not surprised to see the brothers leaving, but she was moderately surprised to see them return. They had only gone out to get something to eat before sundown, and didn't feel they warranted the long, doubting look the girl gave them. Heading up to their room Dean rolled his eyes.

"I hate kids…" he muttered.

"I thought you liked kids," Sam said with a grin.

"I like _some_ kids," Dean corrected himself. Sam unlocked their door.

"You'll like your kids," he said and entered the room. After a moment his head came back out into the hallway. He looked at Dean standing still in the hallway.

"What if they had kids?" Dean asked.

"What?" Sam asked him. Dean looked up at him.

"Daniel and Ruth! What if they had kids! I could have kids!" Dean said walking past his brother into the room. Sam turned around to him and shut the door.

"You don't have them yet," Sam reassured him. Though, he had to wonder if Samuel and Joanna had kids, what became of them now?

"But I could! I could be a father in the making!" Dean seemed to be taking this rather anxiously.

"You've only met the woman once, Dean, you don't have to worry about this now."

"I can't be a father!" Dean sat down on the bed, "I'd _suck_! I- I think I'm having a heart attack!"

Sam watched as Dean put a hand on his chest.

"It seems more like a panic attack," Sam told him. That seemed to distress Dean even more.

"I don't _panic_!" Dean informed him. Sam rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Alright, fine, but get over it. We have something to d-" Sam was cut off by the loud sound of something chewing on a bone. Both brothers turned to the chimney.

"Sam get the-"

"I'm on it," Sam said walking over to Dean's duffel bag and ripped it open. Dean got off the bed and walked over to the chimney. The sound came again, louder this time.

"Here," Sam said walking beside Dean and handing him a sawed-off shotgun. Dean took it as he kicked the pile of logs farther out of the way from the chimney. Again the sound came, but faster and louder this time. The brothers aimed their weapons at the fireplace as the sound seemed to be rushing down the chimney.

A head landed on the brick with a dull thud.

The brothers continued to aim at the head, expecting it to leap out and attack them.

A few moments passed.

"Do we shoot it?"

"Just wait," Dean instructed. The sound came again, rushed and hurried down the chimney.

An arm landed on the head. Then another. Then a leg fell.

"What the..?" Dean asked rhetorically. The brothers lowered their guns and took a few steps backward. Even more surprising than the falling body parts, the brothers bumped into a table in the middle of the room.

"Was that there before?" Sam asked, looking at the long rectangular table.

"No," Dean shook his head.

"Good, I didn't think so…" Sam always liked to be reassured he wasn't going crazy.

They turned back to the fireplace and the increasing pile of body parts.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean asked.

"I have no idea," Sam admitted. In unison the brothers turned back to survey the table. When they looked back to the fireplace, they saw a man. A whole man, standing there, looking at them.

"Whoa!" they both immediately aimed their shotguns at him.

He smiled kindly, and walked off toward the window. Dean watched him, but Sam looked back at the pile of body parts. It was smaller now.

"He came out of the pile!" he cried.

"Yeah well I don't care!" Dean said and prepared to fire.

"Dean…" Sam tapped his brother's shoulder. Dean turned back to the fireplace, just in time to see two arms attach a head to a torso.

A woman stood up.

She smiled at them, and went over to greet the man. The two seemed to have a silent, pleasant conversation.

"Sam…"

"I have no idea…"

Another man soon stood in front of them and smiled warmly. He then greeted the other two.

"Dean, that's Jon Bird," Sam pointed to the newest man.

"Who?"

"One of the men who went missing in this room," Sam explained. They shared a glance.

"Okay, so we solved that one," Dean looked over at the three silent talkers, "kinda…"

"So do you think we can save him?" Sam asked as they watched another woman literally pull herself together.

"Dude, he fell out of the chimney in _pieces_…" Dean reminded him. Sam nodded in understanding.

"Okay, so he's a goner. How do we stop them?"

"From doing _what_?" Dean questioned. The brothers looked over at the group of people who seemed to just be chatting pleasantly. It hardly seemed like an evil act.

"From… I don't know! Hey, look…" Sam said and drew Dean's attention back to the table in the middle of the room. Chairs, dishes, glasses, and silverware had appeared.

"Oh, it's a dinner party. How cute," Dean said, carefully picking up one of the silver looking goblets.

He let go of it when one of the women walked over to them and picked up another goblet. Still smiling warmly, she held it out to him.

It took the brothers a moment to realize she was offering Dean a drink.

"Oh, uh, no thanks, I'm fine," Dean told her, holding up a hand in case she couldn't hear him. Her smile not fading, she nodded in understanding and placed the cup back on the table.

Suddenly the room filled with that loud, grotesque sound of teeth on bone. Dean and Sam had to cover their ears from it. It didn't last very long, but it seemed like it. When it was over, a loud clattering sound followed. This was like pieces of metal falling to the floor, which it was.

The brothers looked to see the table gone, but all of the goblets and dishes covering the floor where the table had been. They looked over to where the woman and group of talkers had been, but found nothing. Turning around, the fireplace was empty of body parts, but contained a small fire gently lighting the room.

"Okay…" Dean said, hanging his shotgun down at his side.

"Maybe the people who disappeared accepted the drink…" Sam suggested. Dean looked at him and nodded in agreement.

"They joined the party."

* * *

"Alright, now the room should be safe as long as you tell the guests not to accept anything from the ghosts," Sam explained. He was leaning against the white wooden desk, talking to the little girl. It was bright and early the next morning, and Sam was making his attempt to explain the situation to her.

Dean got the job of lugging bags of silver plates and cups to the car. They had found the name of a pawn shop who'd give them a good price for all of the stuff.

Minus one goblet for Bobbi, of course.

"So a head really does fall out of the chimney?" the girl's face didn't reveal if this frightened her or excited her. Sam shrugged and nodded.

"Several, actually," Sam told her. The girl's face continued to be blank.

"Car's loaded," Dean stepped into the room. Sam gave the little girl a brief, reassuring smile, and leaned off the desk.

"Remember, don't accept anything from the ghosts," he told her. She nodded and Sam walked past his brother and out the door.

Before leaving himself, Dean eyed the girl suspiciously and she did the same to him.

"Are you the only person who works here?" he asked her suddenly. Her eyes narrowed angrily and Dean scooted out after his brother.


	21. Drum

_**Drum**_

* * *

"Oh come on Mariah! Hurry up!" Bethany called back to her sister. Mariah, who did not enjoy being yelled at by her 63-year-old little sister, gave Bethany a dirty look as she approached her.

"You can get me to go for a hike in the woods with you, but you can't get me to forget about my arthritis and skip gaily about with you!" Mariah informed her, taking a moment to rest against a near by tree. The younger rolled her eyes.

"Hiking is good exercise! It's good for your arthritis!" she said. Mariah did not seem to buy that.

"Tell that to my aching feet!" she complained and muttered several obscenities under her breath. The younger rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Stop being so old, Mariah!" she said and continued hiking along.

"It's better than the alternative!" she called after her, still resting against a tree. She sighed and continued to catch her breath. Why did she ever agree to do this?

"Mariah! Get over here!"

"Oh shut it!"

"No! No. Mariah! Get over here! Look at this!" Bethany's voice sounded almost in a panic. Slightly concerned, Mariah leaned off her tree and hobbled over to her little sister. The younger's eyes were wide and teary. She looked pale.

"What? What is it?"

"Look…" Bethany pointed and Mariah looked.

"Oh dear Lord!" she gasped.

Lying on the forest floor were two children. They were bruised, bloody, and very, very still.

* * *

Dean had actually been impressed when Sam got into the driver's seat and turned the music on. He wasn't impressed because Sam remembered to buckle himself in, but because a Jimi Hendrix riff pumped out of the speakers. Nodding in approval as the car drove away from the curb, Dean tried to shift onto his side in the passenger seat. They had switched seats because Dean had been driving for seven hours straight and gotten so tired his eyes had begun to get fuzzy. It felt so good now, getting to close them. Even the uncomfortable chair and blaring music didn't bother him.

"When did you tell Alex we'd meet them?" Sam asked, turning the radio's volume down slightly. Dean let out a long sigh but kept his eyes closed.

"In a week."

"In Lincoln?"

"Yup."

"But you still want to see Bobbi first?" Sam questioned. Dean opened his eyes now and gave his brother a pointed glare.

"Yes. Now can I sleep?" he asked. Sam frowned slightly but turned the music back up and kept his eyes on the road. After another sigh Dean closed his eyes again.

"What do you suppose they found?" Sam asked. Dean grumbled something and looked at Sam again.

"A picture."

"Of what?"

"I don't know! Now let me sleep!" Dean said. Sam didn't reply so Dean closed his eyes again and readjusted himself in the seat. What a long day it had been. They had to be in Kentucky by now. If Sam could keep driving, and keep quiet, they could be in Chicago in a day or two.

"You should have asked what it was," Sam said. At that Dean shot up in his seat and gave his brother the look of death.

"Dude! Shut up or I _will_ hurt you!" he warned. Sam didn't seem scared, knowing Dean wouldn't actually hurt him, but the point seemed to get across to him. He nodded and turned back to the road. Sighing yet again, Dean turned around and laid on his right side, facing his window. Before he closed his eyes again, he saw Sam's reflection making funny faces at him. Glad that Missouri wasn't there to read his mind, Dean fell asleep.

* * *

Dean had a headache when he woke up, and wasn't exactly sure why. He also had this huge ache in his neck, like someone had squeezed all the muscles. He was about to mutter a hex on how badly the car seats were shaped for sleeping, when he heard his brother's voice.

"No not yet. I wanted to clear it with you guys first," Sam said, obviously not to Dean. The elder still had his back to the driver's seat. Looking out the window it was getting light out, so it must be early morning. The sky was pink, and that meant one thing. Rain was coming.

"Shouldn't be more than a day or two," Sam said again. Dean was careful not to move. He didn't want his brother to know he was awake yet, in case Sam was plotting something he didn't want Dean to know about. Dean couldn't really think of what it might be, but he really was a paranoid bastard.

"Okay, alright. No, thanks. See you," Sam said and Dean heard his cell phone click shut.

"Who the hell was that?" Dean asked suddenly as he turned around. Sam cried out slightly in surprise and clutched his chest.

"God, Dean. Do you have to do that?" he asked, shaking his head and putting his cell phone in his pocket.

"Of course! Someone has to keep you on your toes."

"Yeah? How about the steady stream of freaks coming in and out of my life?" Sam asked.

"Other than them. Who were you talking to?"

"Alex."

"Oh yeah, what about?" Dean asked. In response Sam twisted around in his seat and hunted for something behind him. Dean took the moment to rub his neck. Damn the seat.

"This," Sam finally said sitting back in his seat. He handed Dean a newspaper. One article was circled in red pen.

"'Children Found Trampled?'" Dean read.

"Yeah. A couple of days ago the bodies of two children were found tramples to death by horses," Sam explained. Dean shrugged, not getting what was weird about that.

"In the middle of the woods, ten miles from the nearest horse," Sam continued. Dean thought about that very seriously.

"In _Kentucky_? I thought they had a horse for every square foot or something," he was confused. The younger Winchester let out a sigh.

"It's not the first time it's happened, either. 26 people have been found in that area, trampled by horses, since the late 18th century."

"Without any horses being near by?"

"There was a horse near a girl who was trampled in the early 1900s, only a mile away. They tried to see if they could get the horse to the spot, but it was too big to fit around the trees," Sam told him. Dean nodded, scanning over the article.

"You told Alex we'd be a few days late?" he asked. Sam nodded so Dean sighed.

"Alright then, let's go wrangle us a horsey."

* * *

The Winchester brothers were lucky enough to miss the rain. It had come, certainly, but it had come ahead of them. As generally good as this was, letting the brothers stay dry and all, it had a bad outcome as well.

"Yuck…" Dean said lifting his boot out of a particularly sticky puddle of mud.

"The rain probably washed away any residue of… whatever…" Sam said using his long legs to step around the bigger puddles.

"Yeah, well, I'm having some serious flashbacks here," Dean replied wiping some of the mud off his shoe on a nearby tree. That reminded Sam of their recent encounter with mud, and he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a cylinder of salt

"Are we close?" he asked.

"I dunno, this is your show man," Dean replied as they got going again. Sam rolled his eyes. Just because he found out about it did not make it his 'show.'

"You know, Dean-"

"Shh. Over there," the elder pointed through the woods. Sam looked and saw the familiar flapping of loose police tape. He smiled.

"Come on Daniel Boone," Sam said and trekked off toward it.

"Hey, if I'm Daniel Boone, does that make you Pocahontas?" Dean asked.

Sam wasn't entirely sure if Dean was joking or not.

* * *

It was with another squish that the Winchester brothers stepped past the police tape and into the crime scene. The bodies of the two small children had already been removed, one already buried at the Blackwood Cemetery. The police tape was mostly still up except for one piece which flapped gaily about. Avoiding a low tree limb, Sam crouched down and examined the forest floor.

"No hoof prints," he noted.

"Considering all the human traffic through here lately, that doesn't surprise me," Dean said looking at the area that seemed to be designated as where the bodies were found. It was hard to indicate exactly where they had been on the fallen leaves and mud, but it seemed as though some attempt had been made.

"Doesn't look like anyone tried to hide the bodies," Dean mentioned.

"The things we deal with seldom do," Sam replied taking the digital camera out of a pocket and putting the salt back. Dean nodded, his brother was right.

"Anything on the camera?" he asked.

"Don't know," Sam was just turning the camera on, "how about the EMF meter?"

Dean's face panicked briefly and he quickly patted himself down. With his hand on his butt he smiled and removed the EMF meter from his back pocket.

"Tell you in a second."

"Got stuff on the camera," Sam said. The brothers carefully walked over to each other.

The screen on the digital camera showed a plethora of glowing patterns. While normally this pattern meant good luck, in this particular case, it meant death for two young children.

"It's kind of pretty," Dean mentioned. Sam gave him a pointed glare.

"Unless you're Kathy Harris or Edward Williams," Sam told him. Dean cleared his throat. Was that their names?

"Alright, so, phantom horses? What's that? Disgruntled Indian again?" he asked. He smiled again, but this time because he was remembering how funny Nikki Charles had looked channeling a horse when they had first met. Sam shrugged.

"I'd call kelpie if this was a beach," Sam said looking around. Nope, no beach.

"This all could have been plains at some point. A herd of horses could still be hanging aroun-_ack_!" Dean cried out and reached a hand around to his back. Sam's nerves were wound tight until Dean brought a plastic arrow around in front of him. Instead of an arrowhead was a piece of tape.

"What the hell?" Dean asked.

"Halt! Who goes there?" a voice called out to them. The brothers turned around to see a young boy stepping out from behind another tree, a taped arrow pointed at them.

"What are you supposed to be?" Dean asked, looking at the fake leather vest with tassels that the boy was wearing.

"I'm Little Bear, who are you?" the boy answered. The brothers looked at him for a moment, to the point that the boy became nervous.

"I'm Justin," he said reluctantly.

"Okay Justin, I'm Mr. Mason, and this is Mr. Wright. We're with the FBI, investigating the death of these two kids," Dean lied, flashing his fake ID. Justin lowered his arrow.

"Did you know them?" Sam asked gently, picking up on the change of expression on the boy's face.

"Yeah…" Justin answered sadly.

"Do you know what they would have been doing out here?" Dean asked.

"Edward said he had found something he wanted to show us. We're in a club, you see, well, we were…"

"What did he find?" Sam asked. The boy shrugged.

"I was sick," he sniffled as if to prove his point, "so he only showed it to Kathy."

"Alright, thanks, you've been a big help," Sam reassured him. Dean gave Justin back the arrow, commenting on the nice shot, and he and Sam walked back through the mud to the car.

* * *

"Whatever Edward found isn't going to be there anymore. Cops would have taken it," Dean said as he pulled the car away from the curb, leaving the forest behind them. Sam was on his laptop, already looking for the address of the sheriff's office.

"I don't remember any suspicious objects being found with the other victims. Nothing reported, anyway," he explained.

"It's probably something that doesn't look harmful. I hate that. If it's going to kill you, it might as well look like it."

"A mummy's hand or something?"

"Yeah, or a dagger or creepy looking pendant. But no, it's always like a cup or something," Dean complained. This made both brothers think about the silver goblet on the floor in the back seat, the one they were bringing to Bobbi.

"I found the address of the sheriff's department. What are we looking for?"

"Well, if the bodies were found only a few days ago, anything found at the site would still be in evidence."

"Do you want a look at Kathy's body?" Sam asked. Dean paused for a moment.

"No," he answered simply. The image of a young girl who had been trampled by horses was not one he wanted stuck in his head for the rest of his life.

"Okay, so we're looking for something a boy would want to show his friends. What could that be?" Sam said and started thinking about it. Personally, at that age, Sam would have wanted to show off a good grade on a paper. That wasn't likely to be haunted, though.

Dean thought too, and for him, if he were that age, he'd want to show off his first chest hair.

That was even less likely to be haunted.

"Maybe some sort of Indian thing," Dean suggested. Sam looked at him, obviously wondering where the idea had come from.

"The kid back there, he called himself Little Bear, shot me with an arrow…" Dean was kind enough to explain. Sam realized Dean was right and was slightly impressed.

* * *

The sheriff's station was practically a hole in the wall, definable amongst Polly's Knitting Supplies and Hanks' Fishing Stuff only by a small sign on the door reading 'Sheriff.' Dean parked the Impala behind a pick up truck and began sorting through his coin tray for money to put in the meter.

"Man, when are they going to make parking meters that take credit cards?" Dean complained. Personally, Sam hoped that day would never come. It seemed to him that parking meters that take credit cards should be a sign of the downfall of civilization and eventually the apocalypse.

"Are we sticking with FBI?" Sam asked as he got out of the car.

"Probably best to be consistent, Mr. Wright," Dean said. The way he said the name wasn't so much as a jest, but just a way to remind Sam who he was going to be for the next few hours.

* * *

The inside of the sheriff's station looked much like one would suspect, certainly if one had been in as many sheriff's stations as Dean and Sam had. It was small and cramped with piles of papers on the desks and outdated wanted posters on the walls. They appeared to still be using phones with rotary dials. Though, both brothers noticed, the tile floors looked almost spotless.

"Can I help you two?" a string of a man asked from behind the counter. He had to be in his 50s with one of those thin faces that made him look like he should be a mortician.

"Yeah, we're with the FBI," Sam told him and both brothers flashed their IDs, "we're here about the two children found in the forest."

The man's face didn't seem to register this information.

"The two trampled to death? We'd like to see the evidence from the scene," Sam added. The man looked at their IDs again and nodded.

"This way," he said and began to walk off. Successful but slightly confused, the brothers followed him.

* * *

The hardest part was the clothes. Folded neatly in their evidence bags, the only sign that anything was different about them was the abundance of muddy hoof marks. Sam looked at the bag containing Kathy Harris's sweater. The plastic looked like it had been gripped and crushed tightly, perhaps by a mother in tears.

"This looks familiar," Dean said. Sam set the sweater down and looked. Dean was holding up a bag with a plastic arrow in it, the tip a piece of tape.

"We had real arrows," Sam said and he wasn't sure why. Dean shrugged and they continued looking through the pile of bags. There really wasn't much they didn't expect to find. Clothes, bows and arrows, a backpack and school books, even a few bloodied rocks. One of the children apparently had an inhaler.

Nothing looked out of place.

Then, as Sam moved a backpack to the side, he found underneath it a small drum. Amongst the bows and arrows and other things Little Bear probably had some of himself, Sam had at first thought of the drum as just another toy. But this time, he looked again.

All of the other toys were plastic and generally cheap looking. They had resembled the actual items as much as Barbies resembled an actual woman, but this drum looked different. It looked… real.

"Hey look at this," Sam said. Dean, who hadn't been having any luck, looked at the drum with hope.

"That looks professional…" he said admiring the actual craftsmanship.

"Does it look like something you'd want to show your tribe?" Sam asked holding it up. Dean nodded.

"Mostly definitely."

* * *

Dean once again found himself wishing the haunted item had been something more like a dagger or a pendant. Only this time it was because things like daggers and pendants fit nice and easy into your pocket. Very easy to steal.

A drum? Not so much.

Granted it was a relatively small drum, but it still caused Dean quite a bit of trouble. Though, actually, in this case it was Sam who had the most trouble. It was his job to distract the should-be-mortician while his brother smuggled the drum out of the sheriff's office and safely to the car. Normally something like that wouldn't be very hard for the personable younger brother, but the man seemed to be as interested as he was interesting.

Sam found himself recanting what little he knew about the world of wrestling as Dean slipped out the door with the drum under his coat.

* * *

"I don't see any special markings," Dean had taken the drum out of the bag and was examining it with an eye that had seen a fair about of haunted things. Sam was driving the Impala as far from the sheriff's station as possible before they realized the drum was missing.

"What's it smell like?" he asked. Dean gave his brother a look but smelled the drum anyway.

"Dirt," he answered simply.

"Well that's not helpful."

"Or pleasant," Dean rubbed his nose a little, in case he got any dirt on it.

"Anything from the EMF meter?"

"Yeah, this is it," Dean reassured him. Sam nodded.

"Should we try and figure it out or just salt and burn it?" he asked. At that Dean widened his eyes and leaned back against his seat. He was obviously thinking it over. He began to rap his fingers on the drum.

"I dunno. On one hand it'd be nice to know what happened. I mean horses?" he asked. Sam nodded in agreement.

"But on the other hand, it kills people. Why take a chance we don't have to?" Dean asked, his fingers moving quickly against the top of the drum. Again Sam nodded in agreement.

"It's probably too dangerous to give to Bobbi. Especially if we don't know what sets it-" Sam stopped and looked over at his brother, "Dean…"

"What?"

"Stop that…" Sam commanded. His voice was the sort of calm where it's easy to tell he was trying to be calm.

"Stop what?"

"Your hand…" Sam explained. Both brothers looked down and saw Dean's fingers still tapping on the drum. Only now, instead of a gentle tap in thought, his fingers were moving feverishly, almost faster than they should be able to.

"Ah..!" Dean said and quickly pulled his hand away from the drum. He rubbed his fingertips with his other hand. Sam's eyes had been on the road so he did not see it.

"I said stop!" he raised his voice before looking back to see his brother's hands away from the drum.

Instead of yelling at his brother that he had, Dean's eyes widened in dread.

They could both still hear the fast rapping, only it didn't sound like the drum. It sounded like something faster, something bigger, something fiercer. Because Sam couldn't, Dean turned around in his seat and looked out the back window.

"Dude gun it…" he instructed.

"What? Why? What's back th-" Sam asked but stopped as he looked in the rearview mirror.

They were being followed by a posse of men on horseback.

"Aw _hell_!" Sam cried and hit the gas. The horsemen kept pace, plus.

"Faster!" Dean urged. Sam was going as fast he could, but decided not to tell Dean that. Then, suddenly, Dean was unbuckled and twisted around in his seat. Sam tried to look in the mirror back at the horsemen, but found his brother's rear end in the way.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I'm getting the salt!" Dean asked, wondering what Sam thought he was doing.

"We're not burning the drum in the car!" Sam told him. Dean rolled his eyes as he grabbed the cylinder of salt and sat back in his seat.

"Of course we aren't! We're trying _not_ to die here!"

"Well I'm not pulling over!" Sam explained, getting a good look at the horsemen again. They were definitely Native Americans there.

Can Nikki do long distance channeling?

"Damn right you're not pulling over! If we can't burn it, we can at least salt it," Dean told him and popped open a knife. He cut an X into the leather of the drum, opening it up. With a talented thumb his flipped open the salt and poured it into the drum.

The air was suddenly filled with hooting and hollering. It wasn't possible to tell if the sounds were angry or glad, but soon they stopped.

The brothers looked in the rearview mirrors to find themselves alone of the road.

Letting out a sigh Sam lightened up on the gas pedal and Dean leaned back in his seat. Dean held up the empty salt container and gave it a salutatory kiss.

"I love this stuff!"

* * *

They burned the drum anyway. Both brothers were sure Bobbi would have loved it for her collection, but after what those horsemen cost them in gas alone meant death for the drum. But, before setting it aflame, Sam looked it over again and found something strange. The leather on the inside of the drum was a dark red. He couldn't be positive, but it looked to Sam a lot like blood. This surprised neither brother.

So, after the drum was ash, they hit the road again, continuing on their way to Chicago, and then on to Lincoln.

"Do you think we can actually make it there this time?" Dean asked, this time from the driver's seat. Sam, who was trying to find a comfortable position in his seat and get some sleep, glared at him.

"You're the one who wants to fight evil and save people, so shut up," he said and closed his eyes.

"Well you're the psychic, I'm asking. Are we?" Dean repeated. Sam eyes opened again, and again he glared at his brother.

"Dude, shut up or I'll hurt you," he threatened before turning around and giving his brother his back. Dean frowned, and decided Sam didn't deserve such good company.


	22. Spring Heeled Jack

_**Spring Heeled Jack**_

* * *

"Sophia open the door! Come on! You've been in there for _hours_!" 19 year old Patricia Hopkins yelled, banging on the bathroom door with her hands. One of the girls standing beside her sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Sophia always takes forever in there," she said.

"Has it really been hours?" another girl asked.

"Longer…" Patricia complained.

"Maybe something's wrong."

"With her head. The girl is so selfish, she thinks she's the only person on the planet," the girl said and sighed.

"Sophia open the door or we're coming in!" Patricia pounded again.

"I thought it was locked."

"Nida went to get her lock picking kit."

"Why does Nida have a lock picking kit?"

"Because Sophia always takes forever in the damn bathroom!" Patricia banged again. Before anything else could be said, Nida Obaid sneaked into the line and up to the door.

"Alright, alright, I'm here, I got it," she reassured everyone and knelt down in front of the door handle. She began fiddling with the lock using a few pieces of metal.

"Nida how'd you learn to do that?"

"Am I the only one who watches MacGuyver in this place?" she answered. There was a 'click' sound and Nida smiled as she opened the bathroom door with ease.

After a moment everyone screamed, except Patricia, who fainted.

* * *

Like most nights, Sam awoke with a little bit of a start, the image of Jessica quickly fading with the dream. His dreams were getting better, at least. He only had the one of her up on the ceiling four or five times a week. That was better. The other nights were still of her, though.

This dream was of the two of them, just standing around a kitchen he didn't really recognize. Everything seemed nice and normal between them, just talking. Only he had been telling her that she was dead. At first she didn't believe him, but he insisted and soon Jessica began to get upset. That made sense. If someone told Sam he were dead, he'd probably have an attitude about it too. Then he had gone on to explain things, about his life and his family, things he had never gotten to really say to her. He promised her he'd find out what had done it, and that he'd kill it for her. Whoever was responsible, he would destroy.

She asked him not to.

That's when he woke up.

Rolling over onto his right side Sam stretched slightly and narrowed his eyes at the light from his computer screen. He then shifted himself up in bed slightly when he realized it was Dean, up and awake, using the computer.

"I thought I was the one who didn't sleep," Sam said. Dean turned from the screen to look at him, and then went back to the computer.

"I had a bad dream," he said simply. That was odd.

"About what?" Sam propped himself up a little more. In the glow of the screen he saw Dean roll his eyes.

"Cassie's mom hitting on me…" he practically whined. Sam grinned but kept it brief, in case Dean decided to notice it.

"Here's to you Mrs. Robinson," he said and raised his hand as if in toast.

"Yeah and it's your fault! Why did you have to go mention that damn movie?" Dean turned and blamed him.

"We were talking about plastic. It's necessary to mention _The Graduate_ when talking about plastic," Sam defended himself, though he was enjoying the idea entirely too much to care if Dean blamed him. Actually, he enjoyed the fact that Dean would now have that song stuck in his head _forever_.

"What are you looking up?" Sam changed the subject anyway. Dean let out a snort to end one conversation and turned back to the screen.

"A detour…" he said reluctantly. At that Sam sat up.

"Another one?"

"Yeah," Dean slumped back in his chair.

"What is it?"

"A girl was found dead in a locked bathroom three flights up in a girls' dormitory. Blood everywhere, apparently."

"Another Bloody Mary?"

"No. She was slashed across the chest, like an animal attack."

"Animals go for the throat."

"Dude you know what I'm saying," Dean glared at him. Sam nodded.

"It's like Chicago," Sam said, _not_ meaning their meeting with Bobbi.

"That's why I got into it, but it's different. Police found shoe prints in the blood. Male, size something."

"Human, then?"

"Bloody shoe prints on the window sill, and on the ground outside 30 feet from the wall…" Dean explained. Sam sighed, thinking.

"Third floor?" he asked and Dean nodded. "That's quite a jump. Demon?"

"My guess," Dean shrugged. Sam thought for a moment longer and let out a sigh.

"Then I guess we should call Alex and Nikki again," he said, "in the morning…"

It was then decided it was time for sleep again. Dean closed the laptop and Sam laid back down. Once Dean was back in bed, after walking into a table in the dark, Sam spoke.

"I'm sure it being a _girls'_ dorm has nothing to do with this…"

"Shut up," Dean explained. Sam nodded with a grin.

* * *

It ended up there were several girls' dormitories on the small campus of Capulet College in Indiana. The main reason for this being that it was an all girls' school. The proper dorm was not hard to find as only a few days had passed since the death and police and other forms of law enforcement continued to practically surround the building. The brothers were smart enough to avoid the news cameras, since Dean was dead and all, but unfortunately for Sam, it was impossible to keep Dean from the student population. Sam had never heard so much giggling in his life, and that was just from Dean.

Eventually they were able to get to the crime scene. They were FBI again and with a few flashes of their IDs they walked into the bathroom.

It was… a bathroom. A toilet, a sink, a mirror, a trashcan attached to the wall that hadn't been changed in a week. The blood pool was dry and several small yellow tags littered the floor. Sam stepped carefully around them and over to the window. He noted the bloody shoe prints on the sill. They were perfectly even, perfectly parallel. Sam looked out the window and saw police tape surrounding an area on the lawn below. He could barely make out the footprints in the middle of it, though.

"Hey. I found something they didn't mark," Dean said. Sam turned back to the bathroom and saw his brother carefully pulling pieces out of the trash bin, careful not to leave fingerprints.

"What?" Sam asked curiously. Dean pulled out a wad of paper.

"Blood," he said dramatically. Sam looked and sure enough there was blood on the paper. Instead of taking it as gravely as Dean seemed to be, Sam suppressed a grin.

It always surprised Sam the simple things Dean didn't know about. It wasn't Dean's fault, not in this case anyway, but Sam did have the idea he knew just about everything.

Dean just didn't have the experience to know why blood in the trash bin of a girls' bathroom wasn't worthy of much note.

"Do you want to talk to the girls that found her?" Sam changed the subject. Dean lit up at the idea.

* * *

The brothers stood in front of room 208 and took a moment to read all of the signs that were taped to the front of the door. There seemed to be a post-it conversation going on over a long period of time. Something about Jared and why he was a bad idea. Dean leaned forward and placed his ear to the door to listen for a moment. He leaned back and smiled at his brother.

"She's listening to the Stones," he said. Sam rolled his eyes and knocked on the door. The music that Dean had recognized stopped and soon the door opened.

"Hi, are you Nida Obaid?" Sam asked as the brothers showed her their fake IDs. She nodded like someone who had seen plenty of IDs the past few days.

"You're here about Sophia?" she asked.

"Yeah. They said you were the only witness still on campus?" Sam asked curiously. He had been surprised and disappointed, as one witness wasn't as good as two.

"Everyone else went home for awhile, they live in the city," she explained. The brothers nodded. After finding a friend's body, family can be a nice thing to have around.

"Why not you?" Dean asked.

"My home is Pakistan," she explained.

"And you listen to the Rolling Stones?" he asked. It surprised Nida that he seemed more impressed than surprised by that.

"About Sophia…" she got them back on track.

"Right. Did you hear anything from inside the bathroom? Anything weird?" Sam asked.

"Nothing, there was nothing, not a sound."

"And how'd you get in there? Didn't she lock the door?" Dean asked her. He hadn't seen any sign of forced entry. At that question Nida's eyes went to the floor. This was not something she wanted to tell two G-Men.

"I picked the lock," she told Sam's shoes. Dean nodded in approval. Of course he would.

"What did you do after you saw her?"

"I screamed. Two girls ran off. One called the cops the other an ambulance."

"Why an ambulance?" Sam asked. Anyone would have known Sophia was dead just seeing all of that blood.

"She panicked. But it was useful, anyway. Patricia hit her head when she fainted, had a minor concussion. I closed the door and made sure no one went in unless they were police," she shrugged. She didn't like the memory of sitting in front of that door, trembling.

"So you didn't see much?"

"I saw enough…" she told them and ran a hand through her black hair.

"Alright then. Thanks for your help," Sam gave her a fake smile and the two brothers began to walk away.

"She didn't have a boyfriend!" she called after them. They stopped and turned back to her.

"What?"

"Sophia didn't have a boyfriend, all of the others cops asked that," she explained, "and there wasn't anyone who really hated her. She never talked about anyone following her, or that she wanted to kill herself."

The boys looked at her for a moment. None of that really mattered to them.

"Okay, thanks," Dean said with a wave and they left. Nida's eyes narrowed in confusion and she slumped against the doorframe.

Were those guys really cops?

* * *

Sam looked around trying to be casual. The two were outside around the small closed off area of grass, looking at the bloody footprints. Sam was looking around to make sure no one saw Dean taking out the EMF meter and waving it over the prints. Police or not, that would have looked weird.

"It's going wild," Dean said turning the meter off and hiding it back in his pocket. Sam nodded and crouched down beside his brother to get a better look at the shoe prints.

"They're identical to the ones in the bathroom. They're perfectly even, see?" Sam pointed toward the prints. Dean nodded.

"And the impression is pretty deep, whatever definitely came out of that window and landed here," Dean looked up at said window.

"And then what, vanished? There are no other footprints around."

"Maybe it can fly."

"What has claws and can fly?" Sam asked. Dean gave him a pointed look.

"And can fit through that window?" Sam added. Dean shrugged.

"I dunno," he paused as he thought, "let's go for a walk."

* * *

At first Sam had been confused when Dean had stood and they began to wander around campus, refusing to explain why they were doing so, but as they stood on another patch of grass some sixty feet from the bloody shoeprints, he understood.

"Perfectly even, no other prints around, deep impression," Sam noted looking down at the shoe prints.

"We don't have something that flies, we have something that _jumps_," Dean said, in case Sam hadn't caught on. He had, and let out a long, tired sigh.

"Spring Heeled Jack…"

"Spring Heeled Jack," Dean nodded. Sam frowned and ran a hand over his face.

"I really, really hate those things."

"Hey, it's not so bad," Dean shrugged and got a pointed look, "they're easy to kill. Just a pinch of salt in their face."

"Yeah, but they're impossible to catch."

"Not impossible… We caught one once back with Dad, remember?"

"Yeah, we caught one, with a _net launcher_! Do you have a net launcher, Dean?" Sam asked him. The elder paused.

"No."

"No, so unless you know where to get one, it's impossible to catch," Sam repeated, "not like we'd know where it'd attack next anyway."

That comment gave Dean food for thought.

"Well… Spring Heeled Jack goes for women, young women. And he's usually not very smart…"

"He'd come back here, cops or no cops," Sam frowned. Dean nodded.

"This place is probably like a banquet to him," he looked around, spotting a few nice dishes walking not far off.

"It's been a few days already, he's probably feeling the need," Sam continued to frown. Spring Heeled Jack was known for being one of the more… _psychotic _sexual predators of the paranormal world.

"Sophia was in a bathroom, maybe he likes to watch them first," Dean offered with some difficulty. This conversation really couldn't get any more uncomfortable.

"So we should go around looking for women exposing themselves?" Sam questioned. That idea brought a little grin to Dean's face. He tried to suppress it, but he just failed.

"Yeah, I guess we have to. You know, for their own good," he said. Sam gave him a glare. He continued to give him that glare until Dean became uncomfortable and turned away, clearing his throat.

"So where should we start?" he asked. Sam's face softened as he thought.

"Does this place have a pool?"

* * *

It hadn't felt too chilly out, but as Sam looked at the outdoor pool on campus he thought maybe it was. The pool was quiet and still, a dark green tarp drawn over it, hiding the water beneath. The chain link fence around the area was locked off, so the brothers stood on the grass looking in.

"Well he won't be coming here," Sam said glumly.

"Maybe not, but it gives me an idea…" Dean said in his rather mischievous tone of voice that Sam had learned to dread.

"Uh oh…"

"No, shut up, listen… What does that look like?" Dean asked motioning to the pool in front of them.

"Is that a trick question?"

"Just answer."

"A pool."

"Are you sure?" Dean asked, the mischievous tone returning. Sam looked at the pool and then back to his brother.

"Pretty much…"

"How do you know?" Dean was really getting suggestive with his eyebrows. Sam looked back at the pool, getting a little confused. Sam hated being confused as much as his brother did.

"Because it's a _pool_. It's filled with water and… Dean what are you getting at?" he was getting tired of this.

"What water?" Dean was not about to let this end until he was ready.

"The water in the pool!"

"I don't see any water," Dean said and both brothers surveyed the area again. Sam narrowed his eyebrows. Dean was right, the tarp was covering the water.

"What are you suggesting?" Sam was much calmer this time. The elder's smile lit up.

* * *

Picking the lock to the gate wasn't hard (both brothers had become experts at it over time,) the hardest part was really getting around the campus police. Apparently, after someone is killed on campus, they step things up a notch. Go figure.

"Damn rent-a-cops," Dean muttered as he and Sam hid around a diving board, which is not any easy thing to do. They watched silently as the campus police car drove out of sight.

"Let's hope he shows up soon, tonight's too nice for me to spend in jail," Sam suggested as he got to work setting up.

"You?" Dean asked getting to work as well, "like I need another murder pinned on me?"

Sam rolled his eyes and continued what he was doing. They had sort of tested this out in the hotel room, so he knew everything worked, he just wasn't sure everything would _work_.

"How long do you think it'll take?" he asked.

"With this? Not long," Dean replied. He had thrown his bag to the ground and was now pulling something out of it and unfolding it. Sam walked over eying it curiously as it took its full form.

He was standing in front of a life size cardboard cut out of Marilyn Monroe from the famous scene in _The Seven Year Itch_.

"Is this from your personal collection?" Sam raised an eyebrow. Dean stood up and frowned at him.

"_No_… You think I'd fold it up like that if it was mine?" he asked. The more Sam thought about that, the less he thought Dean would.

"Alright, well, I got everything else set up, I guess we just need to wait," he looked around to make sure the cops weren't coming back around. Since his brother didn't answer, Sam turned back to him.

Dean was adjusting Marilyn slightly from side to side.

"How's that look? She always thought her right side was her best."

"I think you're a big dork," Sam told him. Dean stuck his tongue out and the two started to wait.

* * *

Sam heard it first. It was nearing three o'clock in the morning and Sam was getting kind of tired, but he heard it. Dean, who didn't know what a college campus was supposed to sound like at three in the morning, heard nothing. At first, all Sam did was lean off the metal gating and listen. Then he stood up and walked over toward the pool.

"What?" Dean, who had been leaning half-asleep against his brother, asked.

"I think I hear…" Sam started but stopped himself when he saw something move out beyond the fence. Dean saw it too and stood up.

"Go," he said and Sam jogged over to his position. Dean cocked his shot gun.

There was another movement and a figure appeared by the pool side.

The figure was tall and thin, mostly hidden in the shadows of the night. The humanlike silhouette was betrayed by the two glowing red eyes the creature bore. Dean narrowed his eyes and took a step back into his own darkness as the figure stepped forward into the little light around the pool.

Dean had never met the Devil Himself, but he had always figured He looked something like Spring Heeled Jack.

Those red eyes of his moved and Dean followed them. They were on Marilyn. That had been planned, of course, but it just seemed to piss Dean off a little more.

Jack took a small hop in her direction and continued to look at her. He hopped again, and again, ever closer to her. He was like some animal testing how close they could get. Maybe he thought she hadn't noticed him yet.

It was a good thing Spring Heeled Jacks are known to be rather stupid, as he continued hopping closer to her, not realizing she was two dimensional.

And when he got close, very, very close, Sam (who was hidden a little way off,) pressed the button.

A giant flash of light went off and Jack recoiled from it. Not only did he shield his face with his eyes, but he took a giant leap backward away from it.

It was a good thing Spring Heeled Jacks are known to be rather stupid, as he had assumed the area under the green tarp was solid.

There wasn't a splash, just the panicked sound of a creature wrestling with the tarp, unable to jump out. Dean took his step out of the shadows and aimed his shot gun.

It was only rock salt, but it was more than enough.

The brothers watched as Jack turned into a large cloud of smoke.

"I _told you_ it's wasn't impossible," Dean was not above saying.

* * *

Sam couldn't sleep that night. No nightmares, no snoring from his brother, not even the usual banging that came from the room next door in places like this. The motel had been one of the worst, really, that they had stayed at for awhile, and there was a very incessant lump in the mattress that really wasn't about to let Sam sleep.

Maybe there was a pea under there.

Sam would have tried sleeping on the floor, but that thing didn't look safe to be on in the light, he wasn't about to lay down on it now.

Then, of course, there was Marilyn.

Dean had set her back up in the hotel room, Sam really didn't want to know why, but she was there. As crazy at it sounded, Sam could feel her there, looking at him. She wasn't of course, she was smiling and having a great two dimensional time, but he could just sense her there, like she was a person. Even turning his back to her didn't help. She was watching him.

So, Sam threw one of his excess pillows at Dean, whose fault all of this was.

The elder woke with a confused start. After a few moments he looked over at his brother.

"What?" he whined. Sam didn't answer, he was far too asleep to do that.


	23. Mask

_**Mask**_

* * *

"I hate costume parties so much. How did I let you talk me into this?" 28 year old Carmen Murieta asked as she walked down the aisle. Moira Dillon smiled as she walked up behind her.

"Because you love me and my brother is holding the party," she explained looking over the costumes hanging on a rack. Carmen rolled her eyes.

"Your brother's an ass."

"I know, but you still want him to like you," Moira moved over to the shelf of masks her girlfriend was searching.

"I don't see why. Your family is never going to like me…" Carmen practically whined. Moira turned to her with that 100 volt smile that always let her win every argument. Carmen's frown weakened against her will and she turned back to the masks.

"How'd you find such a creepy old costume store, anyway?" she changed the subject.

"Rich at work suggested it. Apparently this is where he got that kick ass Dracula costume," Moira explained. Carmen nodded in understanding.

"Hey look at this one," she said lifting a mask up. It was a dark, thick red with a gaping mouth and drooping eyebrows.

"Whoa, creepy," Moira said taking it, "I love it. You should get it."

"Really? It is pretty scary. Will there be kids at the party?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, I'll get it."

* * *

"Really? The Lemp Mansion? No, no it's no problem. We have another stop to make anyway. No. Nothing like that. Yeah, it's okay. Lincoln in a couple of days, then. Right. See you," Sam said and flipped his cell phone closed after hanging up. He knew Alex and Nikki Charles only dealt with ghosts, not all of the monsters and demons he and Dean did, but some how they seemed to be just as busy.

Maybe he and Dean were missing things?

Sam looked over toward the bathroom door. He could hear the shower running. The brothers had stopped for the night about an hour out of Chicago. They would have been able to make it all the way last night, but hotel prices inside the city would have been much higher and more likely to do a background check.

Sam wasn't entirely positive, but this morning he had woken up… well, half woken up… and thought he had seen Dean in front of the mirror holding various shirts to his chest. Sam fell back asleep after a moment, so it might have been a dream.

* * *

An hour and a half later Sam was going out of his mind. How in Hell was his brother still in the bathroom? Sam had watched three episodes of Sightings on the SciFi channel already and still Dean was in the bathroom. He wasn't hurt, Sam knew. Every now and then he'd hear something. But honestly, and hour and a half? Jess had never taken that long! What could he be doing? Five minutes for a shower, five more to shave, a few for drying off, and a few more for getting dressed. Not even half an hour. Maybe Dean was painting his nails or something.

A nice coral shade to bring out the color in his cheeks.

But Sam had to remember what he was like getting ready for his first date with Jess. He had been a mess. An absolute, train wreck of a mess. Their father had not prepared them for girls. Sam must have gone through a hundred shirts before choosing one. What a mess.

Suddenly the sound of a blow dryer came from the bathroom and Sam rolled his eyes and fell back onto the bed with a groan.

He may have been a mess, but he wasn't _an hour and a half_ _worth_ of mess!

* * *

After another half hour Dean finally emerged from the bathroom. Sam, who was nearly dead by then, noticed something odd about his brother. As Dean sat and laced up his shoes, Sam figured it out.

"You're wearing a dress shirt," he said. For some reason Dean was wearing a nice white dress shirt with the top few buttons undone.

"So?" Dean asked not looking at him. Sam thought for a moment and scratched his head.

"No reason," he decided to say. Dean nodded, stood up, and walked over to his normal leather jacket. He slid the jacket on with ease but stood in front of the mirror for a few moments and adjusted it. He made sure to flip the collar down in the back.

"Are you coming?" Dean asked heading for the door. Sam shrugged and walked after him.

* * *

It wasn't until they saw the first 'Welcome to Chicago' sign that Dean began to seem nervous. Usually behind the wheel of his car, Dean was calm and collected, right now, however, he didn't seem to sit comfortably. Sam was not above being amused by this. Inside the city limits Dean took to craning his neck from side to side and adjusting his collar. Sam offered to drive for him, and Dean just about slapped his brother upside the head.

They parked in the same lot they had when they first came to visit Bobbi, surprisingly near the same post with a pair of women's underwear still dangling on it. Rather easy to remember that.

Sam greeted the doorman and informed him they were expected in the penthouse. After calling to make sure, the man let them in and again they found themselves in the elevator alone. Sam tried not to watch his brother adjust every little thing wrong he could find in the reflective elevator doors. Sam did grin, though.

* * *

Bobbi usually liked to be composed and calm, but it seemed like ever since she saw that headstone in Colorado, everything about Dean Winchester was making her freak out. Just the sound of his name made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

She just didn't know if that was good or bad.

He had lied to her, but he had made up for it by sending her to the tombstone. He hadn't explained it, but he had given her something. Plus she had that deck of cards he had sent, and today she was getting something else! She loved new things, especially if they were really old new things.

After the call from the doorman Bobbi practically dove in front of the nearest mirror and checked her hair and make-up. She looked good. Maybe a little more lipstick. No, that's too much.

Bobbi jumped and accidentally threw her lipstick half way across the room when the doorbell rang. She swiveled her head around trying to find her lipstick but the second ringing of the bell told her to just leave it wherever it was. With a last look in the mirror she took a deep breath and opened the door.

* * *

The feeling in the room was beginning to get to Sam. Bobbi had ushered the brothers into the sitting room and was examining the goblet Dean had given her. She would ask a few questions in a very soft voice, and Dean would answer much the same. It definitely appeared that neither really knew what to say to each other.

But there was this feeling in the room that was beginning to get to Sam, who hadn't had any problems with coming to see Bobbi. He couldn't really decide if it was just a nervous feeling, or if it was uncomfortable. Sam remembered being nervous as all Hell before every single date he had with Jessica, but he never remembered feeling uncomfortable around her. He had always felt happy and safe when Jessica was around.

Sam closed his eyes and turned his head away from the awkward lovers, or whatever Dean and Bobbi were. The memories of Jessica that were coming back to him lately seemed a lot different than they had been several months ago. That image of her on the ceiling didn't haunt him like it had anymore. He saw her smiling a lot more, and laughing. He was beginning to remember laughing with her.

Maybe Sam was actually beginning to move on.

"It's really an interesting looking goblet," Bobbi said, still studying the object in her hands. Sam turned his attention back to her.

"We got a fair price for the rest of the set," he said. Dean elbowed him sharply in the side, causing Sam to cry out slightly. Wasn't he even allowed to speak anymore?

"It almost looks like… like…" Bobbi was trying to think, "like the cup that killed the guy at the end of the last Indiana Jones movie."

It was a comparison that surprised both brothers, and looking at the goblet again, she seemed to have a point.

Dean let out a small chuckle.

"You're right, it does," he said nodding.

"Actually I'm kind of glad you brought this instead of a head," Bobbi confessed turning it over to look at the bottom. She didn't seem to find anything.

"Yeah, a head may have been a little too grotesque," Sam nodded.

"Oh, no, no. It would have been great, I mean, a _human head_," Bobbi corrected him enthusiastically, bringing a loving grin to Dean's face, "but I didn't know if it would begin to rot. A human head probably doesn't have a very long shelf life, unless it was mummified."

She turned to Dean to see if it had been, and he shook his head.

"Yeah, so, a goblet will last longer," she said and smiled.

"And it should go nicely next to that deck of cards," Dean mused. She looked at him for a moment, like he has said something she didn't understand.

"Oh! No, the cards will be in a different part of the vault. Place them according to how dangerous they are. This goblet has a spot waiting for it by a nice teddy bear," she explained.

"What'd the bear do?" Dean asked. Bobbi's smile lit up, as it always did when she got to talk about something in her collection.

"Nothing, itself. There was a series of murders in Ohio in the 60s, 13 women were killed with their throats cut, and they were all found holding identical teddy bears," she was still grinning. It occurred to Dean that he had met many, many odd people in his life, but none of them seemed quite as excitedly morbid as Bobbi.

That was a big plus.

"The Teddy Bear Killer?" Sam asked questioningly.

"Yeah! You heard of him?" Bobbi asked him eagerly. Sam took a dramatic pause and shook his head.

"No, I'm just surprised there's someone who can be called 'The Teddy Bear Killer,'" he explained. She looked largely disappointed and Dean gave Sam a whack in the arm. Apparently Sam _wasn't_ allowed to speak anymore.

"Is it haunted?" Dean asked her. Bobbi shook her head and crinkled her nose.

That was cute.

"No, it's not your type of stuff, just normal twisted. They caught the guy not long after the 13th girl. I was able to get the bear."

"How do you know it's not a hoax?" Sam asked and looked over at his brother, expecting another slap. Dean was just looking at Bobbi, so that was safe.

"There's blood on it. I got a DNA test. It matches one of the victims."

"But how did you know what the victim's DNA was?" Sam asked. There was a moment of silence.

"I have my ways," Bobbi said calmly and elegantly. Neither brother was entirely sure they knew what that meant, and neither brother was sure they wanted to know.

"So, can we see where you put everything?" Dean asked. At that Bobbi's eyes narrowed almost mischievously.

"Actually, I had something else in mind," she said. At that Dean's eyes definitely narrowed mischievously.

"What sort of thing?" he asked. Sam rolled his eyes and was about to make an excuse to leave, but apparently Bobbi completely misinterpreted the gleam in Dean's eyes. She leaned off her seat cushion and reached under it. She pulled out a manila folder that had apparently been waiting there for her. The side of the folder hit the coffee table with a sharp 'bang' and Bobbi opened it excitedly.

"In the past ten years there have been four interesting deaths," she spread out some of the pieces of paper from the folder. The disappointment on Dean's face was laughable, really, if Sam wasn't so well composed.

"What do you mean by 'interesting?'" the younger brother asked her.

"Well, all four people were found dead in their beds. Autopsies explained the deaths as being the results of heart attacks, but, there was something the doctors couldn't explain," she flipped four photographs around so the men could see them. They learned over and got the view of four corpses, two women and two men, they looked like different races and different ages. Their faces, however, all seemed to have identical lines and crevices. Their mouths were all shaped the same way, their eyes all bore the same sad look, and all of the foreheads had the same deep contour.

"Huh, that's interesting," Sam said and Bobbi nodded.

"The doctors have decided it's some sort of new disease. There was even a public broadcast after the last one, which is what got me interested," Bobbi explained pointing to one of the photographs. It was a young woman.

"What do you think?" Dean asked her. Her smile grew, and that made Dean happy.

"I think it's this," she pulled another photograph out of the folder and put it in front of them. This one was of a dark red mask with a large mouth and drooping eyes. It was almost identical to the faces of the four ex-people.

"All four victims attended a costume party of some sort the night before they were found. I know for certain the last one was wearing this mask," she explained and gave the brothers a moment to think things over. As much about this stuff as she knew, Bobbi had a feeling the brothers knew so much more than she did.

They had the experiences, after all. She just had studying.

Dean picked the picture of the mask up and studied it rather thoroughly. Sam was about to say something, but he had a feeling that Dean was building up to say something wise and powerful. To say something now would just be inviting to be hit again.

"Well," Dean started, "it isn't uncommon for masks to have special meanings and powers attached to them. This one doesn't particularly look rather ornate, so it's probably not ceremonial," he sounded very important and confident.

"It could be a death mask," Sam suggested. Dean, being a professional for the time being, didn't hit Sam, but gave him a very stern glance.

Whether or not Dean knew it, that stern glance made him look a lot like their father, and that hit Sam harder than Dean ever could.

"A death mask?" Bobbi looked surprised but not pleased, "like the dress, will you have to destroy it?"

The brothers were silent for a moment. Honestly, they probably would have to, but neither really wanted to be the one to have to tell her that. She really did look so hopeful whenever she thought she could add something to her collection. It would have been very sad to take that away from her.

"We'd um," Dean decided to take it, "we'd have to find it first."

* * *

The brothers were disappointed but not very surprised that Carmen Murieta's casket was closed. With all of the press her death was getting, everyone had probably seen enough of what her face had changed in to. That aside, the brothers were asked to sit in an area that seemed to be set aside for people the family didn't know, or, rather, for the people suspected of being reporters. The brothers couldn't complain, really, with the way Bobbi was asking people questions it was no wonder people thought they were reporters.

Though, both brothers had to admit, watching Bobbi talking to people, even they almost believed she belonged there. She would sit close to people and lean toward them, her large gray eyes showing a caring interest that may or may not have been real. Every now and then Bobbi would give the person a small gentle smile or lay her hand gently on them.

It seemed like maybe Bobbi could get them to tell her everything, and that impressed the brothers a good deal.

Also, in true reporter fashion, the dress Bobbi wore was both sophisticated and a little sluttish, so Dean really appreciated that too, even if she head the boniest knees he'd ever seen.

Deciding it was a bad idea to leave Bobbi to do all the work, the brothers walked over to a woman standing by the casket and surveying the room. Even with her red, sunken eyes and puffy face, something about the way she stood there gave the impression that she was guarding the casket, protecting the dead woman. Dean, despite all of his wonderful qualities, showed how dense he could really be by approaching Moira Dillon with what could only be called his 'flirty eyes.' Sam was about to stop him from making an idiot of himself when Dean spoke.

"Hey, how are you doing?" he asked her trying to sound really, really concerned. Moira's tired face frowned at him.

"Who are you?" she sounded like she was trying to sound intimidating, but her throat was too tired to pull it off.

"Well I'm Dean and this is Sam. We're, uh, we're sorry for your loss. It's always hard losing a friend," he nodded his head sympathetically. She narrowed her eyes and Sam rolled his. He had to intervene before Dean really got a taste of his foot.

"Do they have any idea what caused this, yet?" Sam asked. Bobbi might be a good talker, but she could never pull off the puppy dog look like Sam could.

Moira looked over her shoulder briefly at the casket and shook her head.

"They say it's some kind of disease, but… they don't really know anything…" it seemed something she was bitter about. That wasn't surprising. When someone you love dies, it's very nice to be able to explain why.

Sam knew that relatively well.

Anything the brother's might have said was cut off by a quick chuckle from Moira.

"Did you know, that Carmen's favorite show was The Twilight Zone? The Rod Serling stuff, of course. And this, this thing's that happened to her, to her face…" Moira paused to glance back at the casket again, "it's just like an episode of The Twilight Zone, isn't it?"

The brothers nodded their heads sympathetically.

"Season five…" Dean muttered to himself.

"What?" Moira asked.

"Oh, nothing. Um, why do they think her face took that shape?"

"Of the mask? I don't know. Maybe she just, um, swelled…" she bit her lip a little bit and visibly took a deep breath.

"Do you know where the mask is now?" Sam asked. She looked up at him and her face narrowed again.

"Why? You're just more reporters, aren't you?" she took a defensive step away from them.

"No, it's not like that…" Dean said.

"We just want to help," Sam was all out with the puppy dog face now, "if you give us the mask I guarantee you you'll never see it again, ever, anywhere."

Moira eyed them both skeptically, trying to decide if she could trust them, trying to decide if it even mattered anymore.

Carmen was dead, what else could mat-?

"I gave it back to the store owner, where we got it. It's um, Classic Costumes, on West Ohio Street," she said and turned her head away from them to the wall a few feet off. Dean nodded as Sam jotted it down.

"Thank you. Thank you a lot," Sam told her. The conversation seemed to be over as far as she was concerned. The brothers turned around found Bobbi standing a little way across the room, watching them and expecting to be informed. She looked impatient for an update. Sam had to smile.

"She's already tightening the leash," he mused. Dean gave him a good elbow in the side but Sam didn't mind.

He had deserved it that time.

* * *

The dark, dusty, incredibly atmospheric Classic Costumes was ruined by the light, tinkling sound of a bell ringing as the Winchester brothers and Bobbi entered. Although the bell was probably placed to let the employees know someone had entered, there didn't seem to be anyone in the store to care.

"I'll go see if I can find someone," Sam suggested and headed off down an aisle.

"I guess we'll search the shelves," Dean shrugged and Bobbi nodded in agreement. With their first steps, Dean and Bobbi started off down separate aisles. Realizing another few steps would separate them, Bobbi quickly backed up and followed after Dean, who hadn't noticed anything.

"Do you have a picture of the-?" he started but stopped when Bobbi placed the picture in his hand.

"How much do you suppose they paid for the mask?" Bobbi asked moving aside a dust purple cloak to look behind it.

"Too much," Dean answered bending down to look on a bottom shelf. Normally Bobbi would be calculating possible numbers in her head, but instead she glanced backward at Dean nervously. She narrowed her eyes confused as he leaned into the bottom shelf further than it looked like he should have been able to.

"Did you find Narnia in there or something?" she asked walking up behind him.

"Nah, just this…" Dean leaned out of the shelf and held up a limp green clown wig. Bobbi looked at it in disgust as Dean put it back on the shelf and stood up.

Continuing down the aisle that didn't seem like it had an end, Dean was actually trying not to look at Bobbi. They hadn't actually been alone at all since he and Sam came to Chicago, and he knew she had questions to ask him. He had sent her to Ruth Winchester's grave, admitted to so much without actually saying anything… Honestly, he had expected her to slap him, even a little bit. But she just seemed calm and collected, and that sort of scared him.

He glanced over his shoulder at her and found her inspecting a white, wedding looking type dress.

That was enough.

"So, what did you think?" Dean was very subtle, or, confusing.

"About what?" she was checking the price on the white dress.

"The grave…" he said. My, how interesting this zombie mask was? Is that wax? This looks like real hair.

Bobbi's attention left the dress and turned to Dean.

"It was rather simple," she said. He chanced a look at her.

"I'm sure they did what they could," he shrugged. He didn't tell her about Martha's stone, which didn't even get a freaking name on it.

"Well, I'd like something a little more," she said and continued down the aisle. Dean didn't quite know what to think about that.

Were they already making funeral plans together?

Is that cute?

"Dean! Dean, hey," Sam said walking into the aisle and spotting his brother.

"Hey, what'd you find?" Dean asked him. Sam had his little boy smile on his face, and he showed why as he raised the red mask. Dean sighed in relief.

"I love it when it's easy."

* * *

There still remained the question of what to do with the mask. They took it back to Bobbi's penthouse and set it on the kitchen counter. As Bobbi poured herself a glass of wine the brothers sat staring at the mask, a pile of their various devices lying not far off.

"I don't think it's a death mask…" Sam said.

"It looks dead," Dean commented.

"Yeah, but death masks are of the whole face. This is missing the eyes and mouth areas," Sam pointed out. Dean frowned and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Maybe it's just cursed, doesn't that happen?" Bobbi asked. She really didn't want it to be a death mask. She didn't want the guys to destroy it.

"It could be…" Dean shrugged. He looked over at Sam with what Sam thought was a very communicative glance.

"Uh, yeah! You know, that actually makes a lot of sense. Things get cursed all the time!" Sam was much more believable than Dean was. Bobbi looked hopeful.

"So can you do something about it?" she asked. Dean nodded and stood up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some salt.

"Curses are easy," he told her authoritatively. He popped open the salt, placed the mask in front of him, and poured the salt on it in the shape of a cross. Nothing happened.

"Good, that should take care of it," Sam said and Dean nodded, shaking the salt off into the wastebasket.

"Really?" Bobbi asked surprised.

"I said it was easy," Dean told her and handed her the mask, "but, it's best not to wear it, just in case."

Bobbi nodded in understanding and looked down at the mask. Slowly a smile took over her face. Soon she was giddy and jumped forward, hugging Dean around the neck.

"Thank you!" she said.

Sam tried to pretend he wasn't in the room.

* * *

When Dean had told Sam to go pull the car around, Sam had assumed Dean would be down soon. After circling the block a few times, Sam pulled the Impala over to the curb in front of Dean. The elder was smiling so Sam put off chastising him for taking so long. Dean slumped into the car, closed the door, and buckled himself. Getting back into traffic, Sam waited until they were on their way to Nebraska before speaking.

"So what was wrong with the mask?" he asked. Dean shrugged.

"I dunno. She should be fine though as long as she doesn't wear it," he admitted.

"Think she would?"

"Nah," Dean shook his head.

"Worried it'll get worse?"

Dean thought for a moment.

"If it does she'll call," he said. Sam nodded and turned his attention back to the road. Dean was trusting Bobbi, and that had to be good for the dysfunctional non-existent but possibly there, relationship.

Maybe there was hope for Dean after all.

"Let's go see what the hell Alex and Nikki have gotten themselves into," Dean said with a sigh. Sam glanced over at him.

Maybe Alex would murder Dean in his sleep.


	24. The Beast: part 5

**_The Beast: part 5_**

**_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

"You gotta get over this," Daniel Winchester muttered as he tightened his reins. His little brother looked over at him and frowned.

"I don't know what you mean," he said. Couldn't his horse walk any faster? It was nearing sun up and they were making their way back to camp. Behind Daniel's horse trail the body of a Sasquatch. They couldn't find a safe place in the woods to burn it so they were taking it with them. Besides, Sasquatch fur met a rather good price.

"Sure you do," Daniel corrected him. Samuel sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Alright then, Daniel, what do I know?" he demanded. The elder brother narrowed his eyes.

"That witch in Colorado," Daniel answered. Samuel was silent.

"I don't know what you mean…"

**_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

Dean woke up to a sight he couldn't quite identify at first. He knew he was in the Impala passenger seat, slumped against the door from sleep. His forehead was against the glass and in front of him was… denim. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes Dean sat up and saw Alex's backside leaning against the door. Yawning slightly and rolling his eyes, he knocked on the window and Alex turned around to look down at him. Dean could see his brother and Nikki once Alex was out of the way.

"Morning princess," Alex said to him. Dean narrowed his eyes and swore at her in his head. Behind her Nikki waved hello and he sort of returned it.

"It's five in the afternoon," Sam predicted Dean's first question.

"Five? That's not the afternoon, that's _night_," he said as Alex backed away from the door and he got out.

"It comes after noon, what do you want?" Sam was smiling too much to be bothered by Dean's nitpicking. As much as Dean disliked not being annoying, he figured Sam's smiling was good anyway.

It was probably because their friends were here.

Nikki signed something.

"Oh, yeah. We've decided to all go out for dinner, but we didn't want to wake you up," Alex told him.

"We know you need your beauty sleep," Sam told him. Dean gave him a still sleepy glare. He turned to Alex.

"First things first, what's this photograph you were talking about?" he asked her. Somewhat surprisingly, Alex had already opened the door beside him and gotten into the car. Nikki was making her way around to sit behind the driver's seat.

"Food first, photo later," Alex instructed through the car door. Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to Sam to get the keys, only to find his brother already headed for the driver's seat. Sighing in defeat, Dean got back into the car.

Why did he even bother trying?

**_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

"Okay, where do I go from here?" Dean asked.

"You're lost already?" Alex criticized.

"Shut up. Where?" Dean asked again. Nikki leaned up and over the table slightly to get a better look at Dean's placemat. He rotated it slightly so she could see. She looked back at her own and pointed with her crayon the direction he should head. He nodded and she sat back down. Looking over his maze again Dean continued along with his own crayon. Sam was watching all of this, and wasn't entirely sure what to think about it. He knew he should be worried, but he didn't know if he should be worried that his 27 year old brother was doing the maze on the placemat at a nice restaurant, or that his 27 year old brother needed _help_ doing the maze on the placemat at a nice restaurant.

At least Alex seemed equally as concerned about her sister.

"So, about this photograph?" Sam wanted to change the subject off the placemat mazes. At that point the waiter came over and took their drink orders. Two beers and two waters, until Sam said they'd be paying for it, then it was two beers, a Coke and some chocolate milk. After the waiter left Sam turned back to the sisters to find them both diligently looking over their menus. So he looked over at Dean, and found him now struggling with the word jumble on the placemat. Sam let out a sigh.

"So about this photograph," Sam repeated, this time loud enough to get everyone's attention. He did, which surprised him slightly.

"I said food first," Alex told him simply.

"Yeah well, we can do both at the same time," Sam tried to put his foot down as hard as he could about it.

"Yeah, we came all this way, spill," Dean added. Dean had a much heavier foot than Sam, and the sisters shared a little worriedly glance.

"Okay, listen," Alex started. Then the waiter arrived with undo promptness. He handed them all their drinks and took their orders. Two cheeseburgers, chicken fingers, and a meatball sub. Health ever lasting.

"The picture," Dean reminded Alex after the waiter left again. Alex shifted uneasily in her booth for a moment before clearing her throat and looking at them.

"We were dealing with a ghost in an antique store, alright? And we were having some trouble with it, and in the mix of things a box of old photos falls over and I find my face in them," she shrugged, suggesting that's just the way things go.

"And what'd you find?" Sam urged her along. Alex looked over at Nikki who gave her an encouraging, lop sided smile.

"Something I couldn't have," Alex said softly.

"Well let's see it," Dean was getting impatient. Alex shot him a brief glance of death before reaching into her back pants pocket. She took out her wallet, opened it, and set a picture on the middle of the table. The brothers leaned over to look at it.

It was a little crinkled and torn in one corner, but the object of the photograph was still clearly visible. It was a woman in her late twenties, wearing a dull but not bad looking 19th century style dress. Her hair was long enough to be tied back, but despite that it was still obviously Alex.

"Oh… _shit_…" Dean sighed and leaned back in the booth, putting his hand up over his face. Sam picked the picture up and looked at it for a few moments. Yeah, that was Alex… he turned it over. On the back, in slightly faded ink, was the name Abigail. Sam looked over at his brother then over at Alex and Nikki, neither of whom looked very pleased.

"It made me think of that graveyard," Alex said and looked at Dean, who still had his hand over his face and didn't see her.

"Yeah, yeah it would," Sam said. This was not good, this was just _not_ good.

"We asked the shopkeeper about it, and she said it was just in a bunch of photographs she got when her neighbor's great aunt died. Who knows where she got them?" Alex was really trying to give them all the information she could, hoping it'd help them find an answer. Not a lot of things really scare Alex Charles, but that photograph frightened the hell out of her.

It didn't help that both brothers sat silently with the look of horrified bewilderment on their faces.

They were both so quiet for so long, Dean with his hand over his face and Sam with his head hung down beneath his shoulders, that Nikki had to slam the palm of her hand on the table top to get them to look up. The look on her face quite easily portrayed the fact that she was worried and the brothers were not to zone out like that again.

"Um, what about the other photographs, what happened to them?" Sam had actually been listening, even if it hadn't seemed like it.

"Well, we asked if we could keep them all, and the owner said since we got rid of the ghost in her shop we could have them for free. We looked through them and didn't see anything weird, but they're still in the back seat of our car," Alex said. She hadn't dared throw any of them out.

"Good, good. We should take a look at them," Dean said, setting both hands back on the table. He looked over to see the picture in Sam's hand, when he looked back up Nikki was gone.

"Where'd she go?" he asked.

"She went to get the pictures from the car," Alex answered simply.

"Now?"

"I thought we were going to eat first…" Dean mumbled. He was actually getting rather hungry by now, and the cheeseburger he had ordered really would hit the spot. It didn't help their table was by the kitchen, and waiters were practically parading dishes past them.

"If you guys know anything about this picture we don't have time to eat," Alex explained. Both brothers rolled their eyes and decided it'd be best not to disagree with her. Neither was generally the 'non-confrontational' type, but for Alex they'd make an exception.

"Hey, about this picture…" Sam started. He'd been thinking about how to explain exactly what the photograph meant. Actually, he was just trying to _figure out_ what it meant. Sam knew it wasn't good. He knew that picture meant the sisters could be involved with everything that was going on. It was a good thing neither 'Alex' nor 'Nikki' began with an M. That meant they weren't Martha. That meant they weren't going to die like Jess, like Bobbi might.

Alex's cell phone went off then. She pulled it from her pocket, flipped it open, and frowned at the number that came up.

"What?" she asked. What the brothers heard next was what sounded like nothing, just like something was tapping against the phone on the other line. It took them both a moment as Alex listened, to realize there was method to the tapping, one their father had taught them both. It was Morse code, it had to be. When it ended, Alex looked rather irritated but only a little concerned.

"Okay, I'll be right out," she said and closed the phone with a sigh.

"She fell down where?" Dean asked confused. This caused Alex to look at him surprised. She hadn't expected him to know Morse code, but now that she thought about it, the brothers seemed to know everything that was useful in the world. Except sign language, apparently.

"Remember that steep hill by the parking lot we thought they should put a gate around?" she asked suggestively. The men understood.

"Can't she climb up?" Sam asked. The hill had been steep, but it wasn't anything he couldn't scale. Alex let out another sigh.

"I love my sister dearly, but I've met kittens with more muscle than her," she didn't exactly complain. It surprised almost everyone when Dean slid out of the booth away from Sam and stood up.

"I'll go get her out, then," he sighed as if it were his fate in life.

"Really?" Alex asked. Dean shrugged and left.

"So about this picture," Sam started again. Now the food came. Sam let out a disgruntled sigh and leaned back in his seat as the waiter began placing the four dishes around the table. If the waiter noticed the two cheeseburger people were missing he didn't mention it.

"Anything else I can get for you?" he asked after placing some extra napkins by Alex for her meatball sub.

"The check?" she asked. The waiter nodded and left.

"The check so early?" Sam asked confused, taking the lid off his container of bleu cheese. Alex looked at him for a moment, it had never occurred to her to wait until they were done to order the check. Sam and Dean always did, in case they felt like dessert. Alex would ask for the check early to avoid the temptation of dessert, which she and Nikki couldn't usually afford.

The check had already come and Sam had already dropped and French fry under the table when his cell phone rang. It was Dean so he answered, and really only half believed what he heard. After a few moments Sam closed his phone and hung his head in shame.

"What?" Alex asked, wiping a huge splash of spaghetti sauce off her face with a napkin. Sam picked up the check and reached into his pocket for a credit card. The name on it was Kay Lawerence, which was luckily unisex, and meant Alex could use it.

"Get this stuff wrapped up and paid for, meet us outside," Sam instructed handing her the card. She was confused, but she took it.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"You'll find out when you get outside," he said, smiling a little to reassure her and left. Alex pouted, and with good reason.

**_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

By the time the elder Charles sister got outside and over to the Impala, she was laughing rather hysterically. Sam had managed to help Nikki up the hill, but before he did that he got Dean up it. That had actually been harder, as Dean's left ankle had twisted pretty badly. Still laughing, Alex set the four containers of food on top of the Impala and looked down at Dean, who sat sideways in the passenger seat. He frowned up at her for a moment before yelling out briefly in pain. They both looked down at Nikki, who was trying to keep his ankle still.

"This is a huge thing, Nikki," Sam said lugging a rather large First Aid kit over to them.

"You need the big one?" Alex asked, giving Dean a look to make him believe it was very serious indeed. Nikki just opened it and ran her fingers through all of the bandages and whatnot before pulling out an instant cold compress. She showed it around to everyone like a model on The Price is Right before wrapping it the best she could around Dean's ankle. He hissed and made a big show of how much it hurt. It wasn't something he usually did, but he was usually only injured around Sam. It was a subconscious action, but Dean was making a big deal of it to impress the 'girls' with his bravery and strength. Of course, both Nikki and Alex thought he was just acting like a big baby, giving Dean's subconscious a swift kick to the rear.

"Here," Sam crouched next to Nikki and handed her a roll of bandage to keep the pack in place. This was nice for him. Sam was usually the one made to wrap bandages and clean wounds. Nikki was even better at it then he was, which impressed him. He would not have been so impressed if he knew the reason she was so much better was because she and Alex are worse at what they do than the Winchesters, and found themselves in need of First Aid much more often.

"So, about this photograph…" Alex started, noticing the box of pictures in the back seat of the Impala where Sam had put it after retrieving it along with Nikki. Sam opened his mouth to speak but Dean beat him to it.

"Do you guys believe in past lives?" he asked, watching Nikki wrap his ankle. There was silence at the sisters thought, and eventually Nikki nodded. Alex soon did the same, figuring that after seeing the Dean double in the cemetery, past lives would make a bit of sense.

"That's kind of what this is, all of it," Sam told them.

"'This?' What 'this?'" Alex asked. The brothers were silent. It was a good question.

"Is this about your mom?" Alex translated for Nikki. Oh that's right, after Nikki had been consumed in flames on that mountain side, they had told the sisters their mother had been killed.

"Yeah, yeah it is," Sam said quietly. Alex came very close to swearing under her breath but remained quiet. In fact, there was a lot of quiet until Nikki clicked the First Aid kit shut.

"What does this mean for us, though?" Alex finally asked, looking down at the photograph. There was more silence, as neither brother liked to admit ignorance.

"We don't know," Dean said, surprisingly enough.

"But we could be, I mean, we could…" Alex was too confused and frankly, too _scared_ to really make much sense.

"Maybe. Hey, give me that picture again," Dean said, moving his hand out to her. Alex did and Dean looked at it intently for a few moments. Then he looked at his brother.

"Give me the picture Eve gave us," he said. Sam paused for a moment, but reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Opening that, he took out the picture of Samuel and Daniel Winchester and their wives. He gave that to Dean who compared the two pictures side by side. After a moment Dean looked thoroughly depressed. He let out a long, dramatic sigh, letting everyone know something was up, but didn't seem like he was going to tell them what.

"Well?" Alex finally pestered.

"You're involved," he told them, the displeasure evident in his voice.

"What?" Sam asked. He had been hoping that they weren't. He had been hoping whatever it was following them wouldn't get to the sisters too.

"The pictures were taken in the same place. Look, the painting and plant in the background are the same," Dean handed the pictures to his younger brother. Sam looked and, sure enough, each photograph had an identical plant and painting in them. They also had the same studio name printed in the corner, but Sam wasn't going to ruin Dean's cleverness.

This was when Sam noticed Nikki looking over his arm at the picture Eve had given them. Rather passively, he handed it to her. Alex leaned over Dean's leg and her sister's shoulder to look at it too.

"Damn, you guys are in some serious stuff," she said.

"Yeah well, welcome to the game," Dean said, looking at the back of the picture in Nikki's hands. Alex grew very grave then. Next thing anyone knew, she was pulling at the sleeve of her sister's shirt, pulling her up. Hurried, Nikki stood up, passed the picture to Dean, and let Alex pull her over to their car. The brothers exchanged confused glances, especially when Alex opened the trunk of their car and started hauling stuff out, filling both hers and her sister's arms with luggage. She trudged back to the Impala.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"We're coming with you," she said. This surprised both Winchesters as well as Nikki.

"Like hell you are!" Dean pulled himself out of the car and hobbled toward the back where Alex already had the trunk open. She had expected to find the gun compartment she knew was back there and saw only a few duffle bags instead. Not thinking much about it she began shoving the duffle bags aside. By then the brother were there, Dean leaning against the car slightly, applying no pressure on his injured ankle.

"If we're apart of this we're damn well going to be a _big_ part of this!" she answered their complaints. Finally Nikki understood and, after a brief moment, shoved her stuff into the trunk next to Alex's.

"You can't just do that!" Dean yelled.

"You listen to me!" Alex yelled back, grabbing Dean by the shirt as Nikki went back to their car for more things, "if the two of you got us into this, come hell or high water, you're going to get us out! We have enough shit in our lives, we don't need yours too!"

Dean didn't understand how they could be blamed for this, but Sam could understand her reasoning. He rubbed his neck slightly, where Nikki's nails had dug into him up on that mountain. That mountain he and Dean had called the sisters too. If that was the reason they were involved…

"We'll pay for all your stuff along the way, food and the like. The credit cards are fake so you don't have to worry about that," Sam told her simply. Everyone looked at him surprised for a moment.

"Okay…" Alex finally said softly. Dean, on the other hand, grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him down to the other side of the car, hobbling as he did so.

"Are you _crazy_?" he demanded. Sam looked at him rather somberly.

"This could be our fault, Dean."

"This is _not_ our fault!" he slapped Sam in the shoulder, "whatever is going on happened long before we were even born!"

"Then the old us, the-" Sam scoffed, just sick and tired of the whole thing, "our fault or not, they're involved. I know it and you know it."

"Well Bobbi's involved, why don't we go pick _her_ up?" Dean was mostly sarcastic. Sam continued with his somber look.

"Because Bobbi can't help us like they can," he whispered so the sisters wouldn't hear. Dean was silent for a moment. It struck him that what Sam had just said was very much like something their dad would have said. He let out a long sigh and rubbed his chin slightly with his hand. He looked down the car at the Charles sisters, who were trying to get the trunk closed.

"Fine," he finally said, "but don't blame me if I end up shooting one of them."

"Again, you mean."

"The first time doesn't count!"

**_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

The Impala was parked in the lot of a car rental place. Sam sat in the driver's seat, watching Alex drop her car off in the rear view mirror. It had been awhile since Sam had read lips in a mirror, so it was sort of interesting to see if he still could. He figured Alex was trying to explain something about an accident. Dean was in the passenger seat beside him, trying to find a position that didn't hurt his ankle too much. Behind Sam sat Nikki, munching on her cheeseburger, occasionally offering the brothers a French fry. Dean would take them, Sam wouldn't. Dean would then take Sam's. The younger brother watched as Alex and the rental place guy started getting into argument about repairs or something. What on earth does Alex do to these cars?

"Oh I'm done with this!" Dean finally yelled angrily. Fed up, he opened his door and got out.

"Dean what are you doing?" Sam asked as the door slammed shut.

"I need more room," he explained opening the back door and sliding in. The next thing Sam knew, Dean was tapping Sam's shoulder with his foot.

"Dude move," he pestered. Sam rolled his eyes and moved his shoulder out of the way so Dean could raise his ankle up onto the seat. Looking over to his right a little, Sam could see the dirt on the bottom of Dean's foot. This was not going to work.

"Your foot's going to get hit up there," he warned his brother.

"Well where else am I supposed to put it?" Dean asked. Sam was still looking at the foot, almost if it were about to attack him, when he saw a pair of brown, female hands gently take a hold of Dean's foot. Both brothers watched in mild surprise as Nikki rotated Dean's leg so his foot rested safely in her lap. Dean repositioned himself in the seat for more comfort, and shrugged at his brother in approval. Sam shook his head, not sure what to think. At least his brother's foot was out of his face.

"Why aren't you a nurse or a doctor or something?" he asked Nikki, looking at her in the rearview mirror. She began to sign a response when Alex's head appeared right next to Dean.

"What's going on?" she asked accusingly.

"I needed more room," Dean explained. She thought for a moment about that.

"So I get shotgun?" she asked. He nodded. That was all she needed. Opening the door Alex practically jumped into the passenger seat and buckled herself in. She looked around the new environment as everyone else took the cue and buckled themselves in.

"Man you guys live like slobs," Alex said as Sam started the car.

**_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

"How about this one?" Alex asked passing a photograph over to Sam. The four of them were in a hotel room gathered around a round table. Spread out on the top of it were all the pictures from the box. A rough estimate on the number was about fifty or so. They were all old, most from the century they were looking for, but some were from a family's trip to Florida in the 1950s.

"I don't know any of them," Sam told her and handed the picture to Dean, who had his ankle up on a nearby bed. He looked at it for a moment, thinking maybe the…

"Nope, me neither," he said and set it back in the box. Even if they didn't know any of the people, they were going to keep the pictures in case at some point they did meant them. The only exception was the family in Florida, which went in the trash bin by Nikki. Happy memories.

"Sam, what about this one?" Dean handed him a picture, "isn't that the guy with the things?"

It frightened Sam a good deal that even with the vague information Dean gave, Sam knew who he was talking about.

"No, it's not George Harley," Sam said and handed the picture over to Alex for the sisters to look at. It soon went into the box.

"_Oh_! Oh! Oh! Nikki! _Nikki_! Look at this one? Is it her? Is it her?" Alex was pulling excitedly at her sister's arm. The brothers watched as Nikki took the picture and examined it. She did this for quite some time before her eyes went wide and she looked at Alex and signed some letters with her hand. Alex jumped up and down excitedly

"Yes! I knew it, I knew it!" she was very pleased with herself.

"_Well_?" Dean wanted to know. The sisters looked at him.

"Oh! Sorry. We know her," Alex told them passing Sam the picture. Dean looked over his shoulder and saw a Native American woman wearing traditional looking clothes and staring glumly at the camera. The name on the back was Sinopa above the words 'Blackfoot woman.'

"Who is she?" Sam asked.

"Well, we know her as Sally Blackfoot. She was one of a bunch of ghost hunters called to a house that was haunted by a little girl. That was…" Alex thought, "Nikki when was that?"

Nikki held up nine fingers and then seven.

"Oh! Right, 1997. Sally's a psychic, like, the real deal, not kidding," Alex explained. The brothers thought for a moment.

"Do you know where she is?" Sam asked. Alex smiled.

"No, but I can give her a call."

**_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

Early the next morning Sam found himself driving along a mostly deserted highway. It was very early, so early the sun hadn't evaporated the mist that formed in the night, so all of the trees along the road looked sort of not there. Besides the sounds of the car engine, there was silence in the Impala. Alex was asleep in the passenger seat, while Nikki was asleep in the back, holding the foot of a sleeping Dean in her lap. It's a good thing Sam had gotten used to early mornings at school. If he could wake up at six in the morning and still pass a three hour final exam in chemistry, he could do anything. They were headed for Montana, hoping to be there in a few days. Alex and Nikki's friend Sally was waiting for them, though, Alex said, she had been waiting for them before Alex even called.

You can always tell a psychic is real when they love to show off like that.


	25. That Scottish Play

_(Author's Note: Um, people under 17 shouldn't google the names Dean gives...)_

_**That Scottish Play**_

* * *

"'Your face, my thane, is a book where men may read strange matters. To beguile the ti- to beguile the-' Oh!" Alyssa Fraser said, hanging her head tiredly. She took a few deeps breaths, trying to collect herself. It wasn't easy. 

"It's okay, Alyssa, take your time," the director told her from the second row, leaning against the seat in front of him, watching her. She looked down at him with a sigh.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Jerry! I just feel so awful! This place creeps me out," she informed him. It was a lucky thing for her that Jerry was the sort of director who understood and was compassionate. She had met many directors who'd be up on the stage yelling at her by now.

"Don't you worry about it. We all know you can do this, so just take your time, clear your mind," he reassured her. Alyssa smiled and took a deep breath, letting the air try to cleanse her.

"Oh, never shall sun that morrow see!" she started again.

* * *

Since Dean was still asleep, Sam bended the 'thou who driveth the car choseth the music' rule and let Alex fiddle with the radio until she found a station that played 60s music. Looking back at the two unconscious people in the back seat, Sam really felt like he was getting away with something. 

"Hey Sam," Alex said, lowering the volume when a Stevie Wonder song finished, "who are these two girls?"

Sam looked over and saw her looking at the photograph Eve had given them of Samuel, Joanna, Daniel, and Ruth Winchester. He hadn't even realized Alex was looking at it. Clearing his throat slightly, he looked back to the road.

"Joanna and Ruth," he answered.

"Yeah the back says that, but _who_ are they?" she asked again. Sam was quiet for a moment, which only made Alex even more curious.

"Their wives…" he said softly but Alex heard him. This was evident by the dropping of her jaw.

"No kidding? I thought maybe you two had sisters you ain't mentioned, but _wives_? Holy crap!" she said, trying not to laugh.

"We're not married, well, not now, anyway," Sam made clear. Alex nodded, understanding the past lives thing a bit better.

"Which one's yours? Have you met them yet?" she asked. Sam nodded and pointed to Joanna in the photograph.

"Joanna, and yeah, I've met her," he confessed, feeling slightly heavy all over. What was it about grief that was so heavy?

"What's she like? Does she know you exist?"

"She was wonderful, she could smile forever," Sam said with the fondness one would expect. Alex, to her credit, was able to catch on to the important part of what he said, the past tense.

"When did she die?" she asked softly.

"November 2nd, 2005," Sam didn't have to think at all before answering. Alex nodded in understanding. What she understood, who knows? It's just the best way to explain it.

"And the other one? Who's she?" Alex pointed to Ruth. This caused a change in mood in the car.

"Roberta Tait," Sam answered, looking briefly in the rear view mirror at Dean.

"Bobbi?" Alex asked, eyes wide. Sam looked over at her in shock.

"You know her?" he cried in surprise.

"Kinda. She heard about a job we did and wanted to know if we still had the harmonica," she explained.

"What harmonica?"

"Oh, this ghost was buried without the harmonica he always played, so to put him to rest we had to find it, which was a pain in the ass. We did though, and a few years later we get a call from some woman who wanted to buy it for 500 dollars," she said and shrugged. Sam, impressed at how small the world really was, nodded.

"You didn't recognize her in the photo?"

"We never met, just talked over the phone," she explained and again Sam nodded.

"She's helped us out sometimes," he said and now Alex nodded.

"So she's going to be Mrs. Dean Winchester? That works," she figured she approved.

"Maybe. Don't say anything to Dean about it though," Sam warned and Alex laughed slightly but promised to be silent.

* * *

When Dean woke up the car smelled warm and tasty. This made sense as he opened his eyes and saw the three other people with him munching happily on sandwiches. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Dean frowned. 

"Hey, what abo-" he started to say but stopped when Nikki held a bag over to him. He looked in it, saw a sandwich, and nodded in approval. He sat up carefully so as not to hurt his ankle or Nikki's lap, and dug into the bag.

"Where are we?" he munched.

"Still in Nebraska," Sam told him.

"But we're making a little detour."

"We are?" both brothers asked surprised. Alex nodded, smiling.

"Yeah. Nikki and I have been tracking a theatre where ghosts seem to be quite active. We were planning on stopping by after we were done with you guys," she explained.

"When were you going to tell me?" Sam, as the driver, wanted to know.

"When you became suspicious. Don't worry, we're already headed there."

"How are we doing that?"

"You let me navigate, Sam, I've been leading us there for 20 miles," she answered simply. This surprised Sam, and impressed Dean, who was picking the tomato off his sandwich. Alex seemed to be made of tough stuff, maybe this whole thing wouldn't be so bad.

This was when Nikki reached over for his discarded tomato. She looked at him asking if she could have it. He nodded so she picked it up. Nikki then rolled down her window, and flung the tomato slice out of it. She quickly turned around to see if she could see where it went. Dean sighed a little.

Yes, this was going to be bad.

"So what about this theatre?" Sam asked Alex.

"It's really interesting, you'll love this," Alex started, "in the past three weeks four people in this theatre have died. All in different ways. One fell down a flight of stairs, one had a heart attack, another had a tool fall on his head from the rafters, and the last committed 'suicide.'"

"So?" Dean asked, "those are all unfortunate, but not impossible. They're not even unlikely."

"Let me finish. About fifty years ago, in the same theatre, a fire broke out back stage during a performance and killed the entire cast, 25 people in total. The play they were performing then hasn't been done since, until _now_…" Alex said suggestively. The brothers were now both interested, and the sisters could tell this by the silence. Alex's grin widened like a cat who just spotted a blind canary.

"And…" she gracefully added, "the play is _Macbeth_."

* * *

After arriving in the town just like Alex had planned for them to do, the four drove over to the theatre which wasn't terribly hard to find. It was obviously by the sheer volume of signs that the theatre was the main attraction of the small town. Sam pulled the Impala up across the street from it and everyone in the car gave the police car parked in front a nasty stare. 

"Phantom strikes again?" Dean asked rhetorically.

"We'll find out," Sam answered leaning across Alex and opening the glove compartment. The sisters watched him pull out a box and dig through a bunch of IDs. He threw one back at Dean, took more for himself, and dug around toward the bottom for two more. One of these he handed to each sister.

"FBI?" Alex asked, looking at hers.

"There's no picture but it'll do for flashing at people," he shrugged closing the compartment. Alex looked the ID over in greater interest.

"You guys are hardcore," she sounded impressed so the brothers took it as a compliment.

"Alright so I figured we split up into two groups. Group one talks to the cops and other people, the other group looks around the theatre. I figure group one should be Dean and Alex," Sam explained. The two mentioned looked at him in slight shock.

"What? Why us?" Dean asked him.

"Because your ankle isn't up for sneaking around and Nikki wouldn't be a lot of help in a conversation," Sam explained authoritatively. Everyone credited this plan to Sam's time as Stanford, Sam credited it to plain old common sense.

* * *

Dean tried very hard to look professional and limp at the same time. His ankle was mostly numb from ice, but every now and then a shot of pain would come up his leg and hit his right eye. To compensate, Dean took deep breaths and leaned against the back of the police car as casually and as soon as he could. He and the three people behind him smiled as the local cop walked cautiously over to them. 

"Can I help you?" he asked. Dean gave the man a reassuring and rather ambiguous smile.

"I hope so. I'm Agent Peter North with the FBI," Dean showed his badge to the man. "These are Agents Andrew Blake," he pointed to Sam, "Audree Jaymes," he pointed to Nikki, "and, uh, Karen Dior," was Alex, who looked displeased.

It is a credit to the police officer that he didn't recognize any of those names.

"What are four FBI agents doing here?" he asked perplexed.

"A group of sudden deaths is something the FBI takes an interest in," Dean managed to say so smoothly he impressed the two sisters.

"Really?" the officer was surprised, "oh, well then, what can I do to help?" he shrugged.

"Well I'd like to have some words with you, find out what's going on, maybe get your ideas, while they go look around. That okay?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. That'd be just fine," the officer nodded. Dean smiled, genuinely pleased.

"Great!" he turned around to Sam and Nikki, "Andrew, Audree, why don't you start looking around then?"

"Sure, right away, _Peter_," Sam told him, hiding his murderous rage rather well. Dean gave him a cocky little grin as the two left. He was getting too smug for his own good, so Alex shifted her weight in such a way the officer didn't notice her foot on Dean's toes.

Dean, however, did notice.

* * *

Sam had never been to Ford's Theatre, but he had always figured it looked something like this. Rather simple and easy to navigate while the lights were on, things looked what would have been considered classy for the 19th century. The theatre smelled like wood and wood polish, unlike most new theatres that smelled like stale popcorn regardless if they even sold popcorn. 

"Have you ever been to Ford's Theatre?" Sam asked, looking at the portrait of a rather gloomy sort of man. It occurred to him that Nikki was mute and he'd have to turn away from the painting to know her answer. He found Nikki smiling and shaking her head.

"Neither have I," he answered and looked down at the viewer of the digital camera he was holding. The two continued working their way down the hall, and every now and then Sam would look over at the EMF meter Nikki was using. It was so nice looking and easy to use. He was trying to appreciate the skill Dean would have needed to make the one they had, but honestly, and Sam would admit this, he had EMF meter envy.

To make things even, though, Nikki envied his digital camera.

Sam concentrated on the digital image of the theatre for so long that when he did turn back to Nikki, he found her gone. Panicking for a moment, thinking about what Alex would do to him if he lost her sister, Sam retraced his steps and luckily spotted Nikki walking down another hallway. Going after her, Sam realized she was following the sounds of her EMF meter, waving it around for a moment and then moving in the direction it was pointed. So he followed her, and eventually they found themselves at the bottom of a pair of roped off stairs. Nikki turned off her EMF meter and looked over the stairs curiously. There was a tarp over an area at the bottom, probably over a bloodstain. Sam moved the camera over the tarp and, sure enough, he could see the ghostly image of a man lying at the bottom. He hit record and after a moment of capturing the ghost he scanned the camera up the stairs to the top, where someone was looking at him.

The ghost seemed just as surprised to see Sam as Sam was to see him.

"Hey!" Sam cried looking away from the screen to the stairs where the dead man could not be seen. Turning back to the camera he saw just the shoulder of the man stepping hurriedly out of shot. Sighing, Sam stopped the camera from recording and looked down at Nikki.

"'Life is but a walking shadow…'"

* * *

"Okay, well, now that we got all the preliminary information down, I'd like to know what you think of all this," Dean was being charming. Now fully up on the hood of the police car, he had been asking the cop questions for quite a while. He had even managed to force Alex to take notes. 

"What _I_ think?" the cop looked modestly embarrassed, "well hell, what could my opinion mean to an FBI agent?"

Dean continued to smile and be charming.

"We consider the knowledge of local law enforcement to be incredibly valuable. You understand this town and the victims far more than we ever could. Besides, you look like a trustworthy guy, you're probably privy to a lot more of the gossip going around town. I figure we can get the lowdown from you," he explained. The cop straightened his back slightly with pride. There was a moment of silence and Dean heard only Alex's pencil scratching on the notebook.

"You get that? 'Lowdown.' It's one word," he leaned over to her. In response Alex stopped writing and gave Dean the lookiest of all 'Look's. He cleared his throat and leaned back casually again.

"Well, as far as gossip around town goes… It's silly," the cop shrugged, "but everyone seems to think it's the ghost of those people who died 50 years ago."

Neither Dean nor Alex reacted like they thought that was a silly idea.

"What do you think?" Dean asked him.

"Me? Well…" it was obvious the cop thought it was ghosts but didn't want the 'FBI' to know that, "I think it's just unfortunate."

No one could say he was lying about that.

"Alright, well, thanks a lot. I guess we'll go find our friends, hm?" Dean turned to Alex to see what she thought. She already had her pad of paper and pencil tucked away and was walking toward the theatre entrance. Dean hobbled to catch her.

* * *

"No, go on a little more," Sam instructed. He was standing alone on the stage, his eyes down but the camera pointed up. In the view screen he was watching Nikki up on the catwalk. Sam saw on the camera screen she was walking closer to a large, glowing orb that couldn't be seen by the naked eye. He had seen it from the balcony and the two decided one of them should go up there with the EMF meter. Since it was her meter, Nikki had found her way up a spiral staircase and listening to both the meter and Sam, urging her closer to the spot. 

"There, yeah, right there. You get anything?" Sam called up to her. He could make out the nodding from her head. Before she went up there, they had decided that was the spot the tool had fallen from when it hit a man on the head and killed him. This is why it made sense for Nikki to look out over the railing and to the stage floor directly beneath her. There was a tarp there too, and the small section was roped off.

"Okay, you can come-" Sam cut short, looking at the screen. The glowing orb had remained there even with Nikki standing on it, but now something else was beginning to take shape. Sam watched, and saw the face of a man there. The same man he had seen at the top of the stairs before. That could not be good.

"Nikki! Get out of there!" he yelled at her. Nikki, confused by this urgent demand, stood still for a very brief moment, trying to figure it out. Sam had a feeling this would happen and had already bolted off the stage and ran for the spiral staircase. Sometimes have incredibly long legs was a pain. Short tables, small cars, school buses; but when it came to bounding up stairs they were very good. It only took Sam a few moments to get up on the catwalk, and he got there just in time to see Nikki fall over the railing.

"_Nikki_!" Sam heard Alex's scream fill the theatre as he ran over to where Nikki had been. The younger Charles sister had an elbow wrapped around one of the poles holding the catwalk railing up and had the other elbow up on the catwalk. Sam couldn't see them, but he figured her legs were flailing uselessly beneath her.

"_Oh my god!_" Alex cried and this time Sam could see her bounding up on to the stage beneath them. Sam's brother limped after her.

"Hang on Nikki," Sam tried to say calmly. If she heard him it was hard to tell. Her face looked more like one of disbelief than one of fear. Hanging off a theatre catwalk isn't something one actually expects to do.

"Get a rope around her shoulders!" Dean yelled up to him, hobbling onto the stage. Sam already knew this, of course, and had been looking around for some loose rope. He found some rope, it just wasn't loose.

There is a good reason Sam always kept a knife on him. That reason happens to be because he never knew when he'd be around someone dangling from a catwalk and would need to cut some rope.

After a few quick saws through the rope, Sam unwound it from its place. He could hear some half piece of backdrop falling to the stage, but right now the louder sound was Nikki's feet hitting the underside of the catwalk as she tried to climb up.

"Hang on, hang on," he said as he moved the rope around in his hands. Kneeling by her arms and face, Sam worked quickly and carefully to get the rope under both of her arms, all the while reassuring her things were going to be fine. Nikki was generally the optimistic sort, who always felt that nothing terribly would ever really happen to _her_, so she believed him quite readily. Alex was not so optimistic, and was continuously telling Sam to be careful. If he wasn't, Alex said, she'd personally castrate him, and since she had no medical knowledge, it'd be very likely he would die. Dean was somehow able to shut her up.

"Okay Nikki, I got you. Between us both we should be able to pull you up, okay?" Sam was remaining calm and being very good. Holding the rope tight and pulling as gently as he could, the two tried to pull her up. They might have made it if Sam hadn't felt a chill behind him. Before he knew it, something was pushing him forward into the railing. The only thing he heard was Alex screaming as he lost hold of the rope and Nikki began to fall. Without time to think Sam grabbed the falling rope and stopped Nikki about half way to the ground. He grit his teeth against the pain in his arms but held her tight. Beneath him he could hear Alex thanking various gods and goddesses.

"You'd best just lower her down, Sam," Dean said calmly from the stage. Sam nodded and one by one, hand over hand, he lowered Nikki to the stage where Alex hugged her thoroughly. Only after Alex managed a 'thank you' up toward him did Sam know it was safe to let the rope go. Hearing it hit the stage below, Sam walked off the catwalk and down the spiral stairs.

On the stage he found Alex and Nikki still hugging each other in relief, and Dean leaning down to look where Nikki's EMF meter had landed. This was quite the job, as the meter had come to rest in several different places after breaking against the hard stage floor. Dean seemed oddly pleased. He saw Sam and gave his young brother a sort of 'Whose EMF meter is better now, huh?' look. Sam felt very much like chastising Dean for it, and he would have, if Nikki hadn't so suddenly hugged him. She got Sam so off guard he stumbled back a step and cried out slightly in pain. The cry made Nikki release him and look at the parts he had spread farthest from her.

His hands.

Her eyes went wide is shock when she saw the large rope burns that covered them. Alex flinched slightly and Dean looked mildly concerned. Everyone felt better though when Sam chuckled slightly when Nikki wrapped her arms around him again in gratitude and even gave him a kiss on the chin to help ease the pain.

"No, I'm okay, they're not that bad," he tried to reassure her and everyone.

"Still though, we should get you to the first-aid kit," Alex told him. She said this in such a motherly way that both motherless brothers obeyed immediately and they all went back to the car.

* * *

The cop had gone and the sun had set dusk upon the town. Sam was sitting in the front passenger seat with his legs out in the street. Nikki knelt in front of him, cleaning, applying lotion, and wrapping his hands. All the while he could see the disbelief on her face. What it was she had trouble believing, though, he had no idea. Sam just kept smiling, hoping it'd help her realize everything was alright. 

Dean wasn't helping. He sat like Sam did, only in the backseat. He was watching Nikki the same way he had when she was dressing his twisted ankle, like he was making sure she didn't do anything wrong. This wasn't a reflection of Nikki, though. When Sam was the one to dress wounds Dean would look at him the same way. It was something Dean did without knowing, which was sad, because if he did know he looked so judgmental he would have liked to stop.

"Alright, thank you," Alex said into her cell phone before hanging up. She walked a few steps closer to the car and watched Sam's hands being wrapped for a moment.

"I got us a room at a local inn. It's a suite, with two rooms, breakfast and everything. The woman even gave me directions," she explained. The brothers nodded in approval and Nikki, upon finishing Sam's second hand, signed something to her sister. Alex's eyes widened in realization.

"Oh, right. Who's going to drive?" she asked the brothers. Dean and Sam looked away from the younger to the older, slightly confused.

"Drive?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, you know, the _car_," Alex told them, "Dean can't use his foot and Sam's hands don't look good for steering."

The brothers were silent for a while.

"Oh _Christ_," Dean sighed and fell back onto the seat. Sam shrugged.

"I guess one of you will have to," he said.

Alex smiled.

* * *

No one was surprised by Dean's backseat driving, but the backseat navigating was a little much. Alex was in the driver's seat with Nikki next to her giving her the directions Alex had gotten from the inn keeper. Between them was Dean's foot up on the seat, as Sam had quite strongly refused to hold it in his lap. Apparently, Alex was using too much gas and pulling on the steering wheel too hard, and Nikki was taking too long in telling Alex where to go, having her sister make turns so short it would hurt the car. 

More than once a sister would accidentally hit his foot on purpose.

Eventually they did get to the inn and checked themselves in. Had it occurred to Alex while she was making the reservations that she and Nikki would be the only ones able to carry luggage, she would have requested a room on the first floor. As it was, though, by the time the sisters got everyone's things to the room, the brothers had already order out for pizza and the women could relax.

Until Dean's bandage came off and Nikki had to redo it, of course.

"So the cop was there today just to make sure nothing had been disturbed, he also added that lately they've been checking the theatre every day to make sure someone else didn't die there," Dean explained getting a whiff of the pizza as Alex closed the door on the delivery guy and carried the two large pizzas over to the table.

"He tell you anything about the fire 50 years ago?" Sam asked, likewise smelling the pizza.

"Nothing he knew for certain, but he was pretty sure the library would have information. Apparently it has every local newspaper since 1903," Dean answered.

"Let's get back to the ghost that pushed Nikki over the catwalk, can we?" Alex asked setting the pizzas down on the table between them all. She had a wait a minute as everyone got themselves a slice, or, in Sam's case, three slices.

"I'm pretty sure I got him on the camera," Sam said amongst mozzarella.

"We might be able to identify him from pictures of the cast in the newspaper from the 50s," Dean said.

"Assuming that's when he died," Alex shrugged, pouring herself some soda pop. The brothers looked at her for a moment.

"Of course he did. He died in a fire performing in a play so now he haunts the play," Dean thought it was all pretty simple. Alex gave him a pointed look.

"Yeah, but what started the fire?" she asked. The brothers were silent again as they thought. Nikki just smiled to herself with pride for her sister.

* * *

It was good that Sam went to bed early that night. Not for any particular reason, just that it's always good when a Winchester got a full night's sleep. Dean was just walking out of the bathroom, flipping off the lights and putting his toothbrush back in its little baggy. Limping over toward the bed Sam was fast asleep in, Dean cringed a little from the pain of a sprained ankle. Looking at the doorway that connected the Winchester brothers' room with the Charles sisters', he saw light coming out from around it, signifying one of both of the sisters were still awake. If it was Nikki, maybe she could wrap another icepack around his ankle. 

So he hobbled over to the door, trying not to bump anything in his now dark room. As he got there he could hear Alex's voice, it was low and gentle. Dean opened the door a crack and intended to barge right into the room his fake credit card was paying for, but he saw the unmistakable sight of a bare female back. He pulled the door shut most of the way closed but, being Dean, left just enough space for him to peer into the room. He could still see the back, and by the lighter brown color he could tell it was Nikki's. Alex's voice proved that.

"You should tell me when you're hurt," the older sister chastised gently. Dean leaned to the side and, looking still at Nikki's bare back, could see minor rope burns by her shoulders. They didn't look very bad, not nearly as bad as Sam's burns, but they didn't look all that comfortable. Dean watched Nikki sign something, trying to communicate and hold a blanket to her chest at the same time. It seemed enough for Alex who sat on the bed behind her, opening the lid on a tube of lotion.

"I don't care if you think it's embarrassing, you need to tell me," she said, beginning to rub lotion on her sister's burns. Nikki signed something else. Dean couldn't see her face, but her hands seemed cheerless.

"It was not your fault Sam got hurt. You didn't jump off the catwalk," Alex shook her head. Dean had to give Alex credit. Apparently she could read sign language backward.

"And it wasn't your fault Dean sprained his ankle, either," Alex added for good measure. Nikki signed again.

"Okay, so it was silly of you to fall down the hill. It was silly of him to do the same," Alex said. It occurred to Dean that the sight of two women seated on a bed, one rubbing lotion onto the bare back of the other, would usually be something he'd see as erotic, but with these two it just seemed gentle and familial. This worried Dean a little. He closed the door on them and hobbled over to bed. What worried him was that the Charles sisters weren't women to him, they weren't sex. Even Cassie and Bobbi have always been sex to him. But these sisters, they were different, they were Alex and Nikki, they were _friends_.

Dean just hoped this didn't mean he was gay.

* * *

It was a pretty small library, the sort that was probably a one room school house at some point, maybe even a church. Sam knew it was a small library when he found its one edition of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn in the non-fiction section and missing the front cover. 

"You find anything?" Sam asked carrying a book in the crook of his arm. Dean was seated at a desk, flipping through old newspapers on the screen in front of him. Sam liked the familiar sound of the clicking as each newspaper went by.

"No," Dean huffed, "no one seems to know what month the fire happened. I'm currently in August, 1956."

"Anything interesting?"

"Linda Hoyt gave birth to twins girls. They named them Milly and Molly," Dean said and looked at him as if this were very exciting news indeed. Sam frowned.

"Well keep looking, it'll be there," he said. Dean nodded and continued clicking his way through the newspapers.

"What you got there?" he asked Sam as the younger sat down and set his book on the table.

"Oh! I found a copy of _Macbeth_! It's been awhile since I've read it, so I figured I'd go over it again," Sam shrugged. He realized that made him sound sort of dorky, but frankly, Sam didn't give a damn if it did.

"'When shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, or in rain?'" Dean asked.

There was a moment as Sam looked at his brother is shocked awe.

"You've read _Macbeth_?" he was only partially speechless.

"Only the first two lines," Dean shrugged and turned back to the screen.

"Let it never be said a little old fashioned hard work never paid off!" Alex's voice was a little too loud for a library as she walked over to them, beaming. Nikki followed after, carrying a large, newspaper sized book.

"What'd you find?" Sam asked as Nikki set the book on the table and opened it. Both brothers leaned forward.

"October 9th, 1956! '25 People Burn to Death in Theatre!' Beat that!" Alex was very proud of herself. The aged front page did indeed bear this headline, and all down it were 25 small portraits. Pulling the book closer, Sam began looking over the head shots as Dean read over the article itself.

"Fire of unknown causes," he read and intended to have a meaningful look with his brother, but the younger Winchester was still searching the faces. Sam's eyebrows furrowed in a way that Dean knew wasn't good.

"He's not here," Sam informed them.

"What do you mean?" Dean demanded.

"What can I mean? _He's not here_. The ghost in the theatre that tried to kill Nikki isn't here. He wasn't in that cast," Sam explained.

"Maybe you got his face wrong."

"No, I remember that face. It's creepy as all Hell, I didn't forget," Sam was quite positive. Dean sighed and thought for a moment.

"I want to see the face on that camera. Come on," Dean stood, "let's get a photocopy of this."

He began to pick up the large book.

"You mean like this?" Alex smiled and produced several sheets of copy paper. Dean looked over them and eyed the elder sister critically.

"How long ago did you find the newspaper?" he asked.

"About an hour."

The brothers both glared at her.

"It took us awhile to find the copier," she explained.

* * *

That night Dean Winchester and Nikki Charles had a very large scare. All four of them where in their hotel room just in time for _Jeopardy_, which normally isn't a frightening event, but apparently both Sam and Alex excel at the game show. Dean and Nikki watched on in horror as their siblings played the game against each other, going so far as to use the hotel stationary to keep score. It was surprising at how seriously Sam and Alex seemed to be taking it, too. During the commercials they bickered like mad over who got the answer first and other small details. Alex even shoved Sam over the side of the bed when he insisted he get credit for an answer whether or not he put it in the form of a question. 

Really, though, Alex was right about that one. In Double Jeopardy you need to put it in the form of a question.

The two non-genius siblings sat off in the corner, mostly afraid of being slapped by one of the other two. Dean was reading over the photocopied newspaper, which the sisters had copied in full (it cost them one dollar and 60 cents,) while Nikki was searching online. Nikki, Dean noticed, had horrible computer posture. She hunched herself down and curled her arms to her chest, occasionally using one to move the mouse or type something. She looked like a nervous squirrel, it was really unsightly.

He was about to tell her so when another _Jeopardy _related fight broke out over whether or not Alex's pronunciation of 'Sudan' was acceptable.

Sighing and shaking his head, Dean turned back to the newspaper, occasionally looking over at the image in the digital camera. It was a very memorable face. Back to the newspaper again, Dean had to wonder if it had really been a good idea to continue the story from the front page in the obituary section. He supposed it saved space and money, but really, it seemed sort of tacky.

This was his train of thought up until the moment he jumped out of his seat, throwing the chair backward to the ground in the process. Naturally everyone looked at him and the photocopy clenched in his hands.

"What?" Sam asked his excited looking brother.

"I found him!" Dean cried. Sam and Alex abandoned their _Jeopardy_ and Nikki left her squirrel like internet surfing. They were by his side and looking at the obituary he was pointing to.

It started with a picture of the man. He looked like he wasn't the smiling sort, but was being forced to try for the sake of the photograph. The obituary wasn't very long as some of them go, but the very important part was at the end. Dean, being the only one to read the entire article about the theatre fire, was also the only one to know why the date and time of the dead man's funeral was important.

"His funeral was at the same time and day the memorial for the actors was, the exact freaking time!" Dean explained, "how many people do you think showed up for _his_ memorial?"

"I'd be surprised if his wife showed up," Alex disliked this ghost the minute he touched her sister.

"So he's killing these actors for, what, revenge?" Sam wasn't exactly sure how to word it. 'Jealousy' might have been better.

"People have killed for less," Alex told him and Nikki nodded in agreement. This would have been a good time for the brothers and sisters to think long and hard about the different sort of childhoods they had, but they had other things to think about at the moment.

"What do we do? Salt and burn the bones?" Sam asked. Dean thought for a moment.

"We could hold a funeral, get people to come," Alex suggested. The brothers looked at her.

"That wouldn't work…" Dean said.

"It could. Sometimes all they want is a proper send off," she shrugged.

* * *

It was a testament to Dean's charisma that the entire remaining cast and crew of _Macbeth_ was seated in the theatre looking at the stage. Some how, under the guise of an FBI agent, Dean had gotten the local cops to get everyone to come. Dean had said something about questioning and going over theories or something… but really, he just needed a group of people. 

Now they were all looking at Sam, who of the four was the least threatening looking one that could actually speak. He stood at a podium and looked somewhat shyly over the group of confused people.

"Hello," he did his non-threatening wave, "we've gathered you all here to mourn the passing of Henry Bunten."

Sam then went on to read everything he knew about Henry, which was the obituary in its entirety. The group of people in front of him continued to be confused through every word of it. Finally he finished and set the paper on the podium. There were a few moments where he looked out at everyone, impatiently waiting for something to happen.

"I told you it wouldn't work," Dean said to Alex back stage.

That was when the giant roar blasted through the theatre before slowly fading away. Most of the cast and crew panicked and fled the theatre, while Sam jogged off the stage to his brother and the sisters.

"What was that?"

"I don't know!" Dean replied.

"Nikki was that it?" Alex asked her sister. They all watched as Nikki nodded, smiling.

* * *

Later that night Alex was driving the Impala down a rather busy highway. Dean and Nikki were asleep in the back seat, Nikki making some odd breathing sound in the back of her throat. When Dean had fallen asleep had been a very good moment for Alex. It meant he finally shut up about her driving his car. Though, even his nagging hadn't taken anything away from the fact that she was driving a really nice looking car! Alex wasn't a lesbian by any means, except that one time that doesn't count, but this car seriously made her want to go pick up chicks. 

"Hey," Sam quietly got her attention. He was in the passenger seat, carefully typing on his laptop with just his index fingers.

"Yeah?" Alex really didn't know how to be quiet.

"How'd you know it'd be so easy to get rid of that ghost? It was pretty violent," he asked. This wasn't Sam complaining. Just because he was an excellent marksman didn't mean he enjoyed shooting things.

Alex shrugged.

"I dunno. They're not really all that hard to get rid of sometimes. For some, all y'all gotta do is something simple."

"Simple?"

"Yeah, simple. Like… Play them music, or let them watch a movie. Sometimes it's hard and we gotta solve their murder or rearrange a library, but sometimes it's all easy," she said. Sam thought about this for a moment. He had taken some psychology classes at school, and he was wondering if the reason he, Dean, and their dad always shot things while the Charles sisters just worked things out, as because of the difference in male/female ways of thinking.

"Oh," was all he said on the matter, "I still should have gotten credit for that answer."

"_It has to be in the form of a question_!"


	26. Homestead Inn

_**Homestead Inn**_

* * *

"No, no please. Don't. You can't do this. Please don't do this," Louise Batton cried pushing herself back into the corner of the room. She knew she had no where to go, the wall was as solid as she was, but she tried. He was getting closer and closer, and she… she didn't want to die.

"I'm quite sorry, but I'm afraid I rather have to," he said. His voice was so cold it hurt her head.

"No! _Don't_!" she screamed, clutching her head. It hurt. It hurt so much. Crying out in pain, Louise slid down the wall to the floor. She could see anything, she couldn't hear. All there she knew was the pain in her head.

He just watched her, smiling.

_

* * *

Di di di di._

Damn it was getting annoying._ Di di di di_. Wasn't it ever going to end?_ Di di di di_. Just make it go away! _Di di di di_. It's too damn early for this! _Di di di di_.

"Sam answer your phone!" Dean yelled from the floor between two beds. The four of them had gotten a room for the night as was usual. It was small and rather crummy, as was usual. The Charles sisters were sharing one bed, and Sam's feet were hanging off the end of the other.

"It's not mine," Sam grumbled back. It had been bugging him as long as it had been bugging Dean. So the elder brother thought about this for a moment.

"Nikki answer your phone," he grumbled, and fully deserved the pillow the mute woman smacked him with. Still, in protest, he grabbed it and took it from her, triumphantly putting it under his head.

_Di di di di_.

"Alex!" was Dean's last hope. They all heard Alex ruffle around under her covers.

"Okay, okay, I was hoping it wasn't mine," she said tiredly. Everyone listened to her fumble around in the dark, and, finally, the _Di di di di_ng ended. The brothers both let out a sigh, but were cut short when the noise was instead replaced by Alex's much louder, much more disrupting voice.

"Hello? Who? What? Do ya know what time it is? Right, course ya do… What do ya want?" her voice was always loud. Dean reached under his head and gave Nikki her pillow back, just in case she needed it to cover her ears. All three were basically able to block out the bombarding Alabaman accent for a few moments, right until Alex cried out.

"_What_!" she said in shock. Nikki, figuring it was something she might be interested in, sat up and looked in her sister's general direction in the dark. Sam and Dean continued trying to block Alex out.

"Yeah, of course we will. Ya got an address?" a light flicked on as Alex scrambled around for a piece of paper and a pencil.

"Say that again," she instructed and started writing.

"Un huh, okay, yeah I got ya. Don't worry. It's no problem, we'll get right on it. Yeah. Yeah. Thanks. Bye," Alex's conversation ended. After clicking her phone shut, Alex sat with an elbow propped up on the table for a moment. She let out a soft sigh and looked toward the beds, where three people were watching her.

"Well?" Sam finally asked. Alex sighed again.

"We need to make a stop," she said simply.

"Another one?"

"Don't you actually want to see this Sally chick?" Dean asked her followed by a yawn.

"That was her on the phone, there's something she wants us to do."

"We're running errands for her now? We haven't even met her!" Dean was really too tired to be awfully upset, but he did seem mildly annoyed.

"It's _important_," Alex said seriously and everyone quite believed her. She looked over to her sister. "Louise Batton's been killed."

The brothers turned to see Nikki raise her hand to her mouth in pained shock. Dean noticed her clutching the blanket with her other hand. It seemed quite like the floor beneath her had suddenly dropped away.

"Who's Louise Batton?" Sam asked turning back to Alex.

"She is… _was_ a friend of ours. We met her and Sally at the same time. She's um, she's a medium," Alex explained to them.

"And she was killed, not just died?" Dean wanted to clarify. Alex nodded.

"How was she killed?" Sam could tell Alex and Nikki were upset, so he asked this in his 'everything will be okay' voice. Anyone who listened to Sam a lot knew there were several different voices he used. There was the 'I'm really very angry' voice, and the 'this is serious' voice, the 'I don't want to tell you but I will' voice, and even the 'please stop doing that' voice that he used with Dean quite often. Oddly enough, the sisters had never heard any of those.

"Sally isn't sure, she saw it in a vision, so… But she said she got the impression Louise had been, um, 'drained' was the word she used," Alex wasn't really pleased talking about her friend in such away, but she knew the brothers had to know if they were going to be able to help. And frankly, Alex desperately wanted their help. She and Nikki couldn't handle this alone. They could handle a lot, but, not this.

"Drained of what, her life force, her blood..?" Dean asked in his 'this is how I ask everything no matter the situation' voice. Alex just had to shrug.

"Visions ain't the most informative thing there is," she said.

"But we're definitely talking our kind of thing, right?" he wanted to clarify. Alex nodded, more than positive about that. If Sally had thought it was something else, the Charles sisters would not have been the ones she'd call.

"Well, if we can help," Sam shrugged sleepily. Alex smiled appreciatively and stood up.

"Okay then! Let's head out!" she said. Nikki sprang from her bed and joined her sister in beginning to pack.

"Wait. _What_? Now?" Dean almost didn't believe them.

"Of course! Come on, this thing could get away!" Alex said and she and Nikki tried to decide who would change their clothes first.

"But we're sleeping…" Sam made his counterpoint.

"So? You can sleep in the car. I'm the one driving," she told him as Nikki went off to change. Sam sighed and crawled off his bed. Dean sighed too, but his sigh was much louder and had much more aggravation in it. He did toss his blankets aside, though, and started getting up.

"Ah," he said softly as he tried putting pressure on his bad ankle.

"Hey I got a question," he addressed the room, "why is the guy with the bad ankle the one sleeping on the damn floor?"

* * *

When Sam woke up again it was because a bright ray of orange colored sunlight hit him directly in the face. He blinked slightly as the sun flashed in and out of his eyes as trees moved by in front of it. Groaning with sleep he sat up, feeling the long hours right in the middle of his back. Sam tried to stretch his legs as far as he could, and the small space in which he had room too was really what reminded him he was in the Impala. Looking out the window he saw the trees and orange sun go by as they drove along.

"I'm the one, I'm the one, the one they call the seventh son," came out of the radio. Still blinking the sleep out of his eyes Sam looked to it and up to Alex who was driving. Now he had moved around quite a bit already, but Alex had a look on her face like she hadn't even noticed. Actually, Alex looked like she wasn't even there, more like she was off on some distant planet. Now this is usually not a look one wants to see on the person driving the car they're in, but she hadn't crashed them yet so Sam gave her the benefit of the doubt. He twisted his head around to the left and saw Nikki gazing out the window with much the same, dazed expression her sister had. Actually, and Sam had to notice this, the dazed expression made them really look like sisters for the first time since he'd known them. Somewhere in that lost look was the family resemblance.

It made Sam wish he knew what their mother looked like. He had a feeling Alex would look more like their mother than Nikki did.

Sam stretched himself around to the right and saw Dean's faced pushed up against the glass of the window, he was obviously very asleep. Sam smiled slightly as the fog by Dean's mouth grew and faded as the elder Winchester breathed. He hoped his brother was having good dreams, filled with lots of blonde starlets.

"Hey Alex," Sam said turning around to look at her. She did nothing so he repeated himself.

"What?" she finally asked glancing over at him briefly. Her eyes still seemed somewhere else.

"This Louise Batton. Was she a real medium?" his mentioning the woman's name brought Alex back down to earth, and, though neither noticed, Nikki turned away from the window to them.

"Of course she was, we don't like phonies," Alex grumbled slightly like Sam had accused her of something.

"Okay, I was just asking. Some phonies can seem pretty real," he didn't feel like upsetting her, but he wanted to make sure they weren't wasting their time.

"Yeah, well, Louise knew things, things no one could know," Alex's eyes were firmly set on the road ahead of them and Nikki's went off into space again. The inside of the car became so serious it made Sam slightly nervous.

"What kind of things?" he asked just to get rid of the uncomfortable silence.

"Private kind of things…" she ended that line of questioning. Sam nodded, figuring even the loud, talkative Alex was allowed her secrets.

* * *

The inn where Louise Batton had been staying looked nice and quaint. It was called the Homestead Inn and this surprised nobody. Alex drove the Impala into the gravel parking lot and stopped it pretty close to the front entrance. Everyone looked at it from the car, trying to make up their minds about it. The one who had the most trouble with this was Sam, who had a nagging feeling about the place.

"Are we staying here?" Sam asked for clarification.

"Louise was," Alex figured that was an answer.

"We might have some trouble," Dean said and pointed across the sidewalk to a parked police car. It appeared to be empty, but they all gave it a glare anyway.

"I don't suppose in your arsenal of fake IDs you two happen to be private detectives…" Alex suggested. Dean thought for a moment.

"I do. Under the name James Cain," he finally said. Alex nodded and turned around to look at him.

"We just hired you," she told him. It took Alex a moment to realize Dean wasn't going to understand what she just said. She sighed.

"Nikki and I will go in as friends of Louise's, which isn't a lie, and say we've hired you to investigate her death," she explained. Dean thought for a moment and finally nodded in approval.

"What about me?" Sam asked. If Dean was going to get to be a private detective he wanted to be something too. And, frankly, it was fun not to have to come up with stories on their own. It felt more like a game this way.

"You can be a friend of hers too. We can pretend you're a psychic or something," Alex shrugged.

The brothers were both very silent and very still.

It occurred to them both that they had never told the sisters what Sam could do. It wasn't an omission done on purpose, it was just something the brothers simply forgot about, and this surprised them. Sam's powers had become so every day to them that they simply didn't really think about it anymore. This concerned Sam, as he didn't want to become so used to them that he might just tell someone that he shouldn't without thinking about it. Dean on the other hand, was not so concerned, mostly because he never thought about what he said anyway.

"Hey, guys, listen…" Sam started to say carefully to the sisters.

"Wait," Dean cut him short by slapping Sam on the shoulder and pointing out toward the inn's front door.

A short, plump, nice looking lady was speaking to a police man in the doorway. The officer was listening and placing a hat on his head, obviously on his way out.

"Do we want to talk to him?" Alex asked as they all watched.

"Not yet, we'll talk to her first," Dean answered.

"You think they're renting rooms?" Sam asked generally.

"I'll go ask," Alex said and unbuckled herself and got out of the car. It was a noticeable trait that when the Charles sisters said they would do something, they just went right ahead and did it.

"Hey," Dean got his brother's attention, "I need a cool way to explain my ankle."

"I'll come up with a reason for your ankle if you come up with a reason for my hands," Sam suggested. Dean agreed and they both got to thinking.

Nikki had a hundred ideas for both, but oh well.

* * *

"It's a shame about your ankle, and your hands, but what a lucky thing for those orphans you were there," the innkeeper shook her head as she thought about it. The brothers sort of grinned at each other behind her as she led them all down the bright, cheery, light colored hallway. There was a moment where Sam almost knocked over a small porcelain cat, but he caught it and recovered without anyone noticing.

"Yeah these guys are real saints. Mrs. Mill, didn't you have a person stay here not long ago, Louise Batton?" Alex asked from behind the tall brothers, where she and Nikki were lugging all of their stuff. If Mrs. Mill heard her she was the only one to know it.

"Here we are, now, the master suite," she said cheerily clanking an old key in the lock and opening the door, "I think you two boys will be comfortable here."

The Winchesters leaned into the room after Mrs. Mill stepped away. It smelled like every flower fragrance ever made. That fit the room perfectly, though, as every piece of linen, furniture, and wallpaper bore at least a dozen different kinds of flowers. Dean made a disturbed face and Sam forced a smile.

"Yeah, this is great, thanks," he told the round little woman. She smiled back and turned to the sisters.

"Okay girls, the bridal suite is this way," she said and led them further down the hallway.

"About Louise Batton," Alex tried again as she followed after. The brothers looked back into their room.

"This room makes me sad, Sam," Dean confessed and Sam nodded in agreement. Then they both felt a push against their backs and turned to see Nikki still standing their, holding all of their stuff. They could almost see the pain she felt from the strap of Dean's duffle bag cutting into her shoulder. Sam apologized for making her stand there while Dean did him one step better and actually took his bag off her. Sam moved his arm through one strap and carried his bag with his elbow. Nikki took a moment to stretched herself out and rub the sore spots before heading off to find her sister. Sam closed the door after her and turned to see his brother testing both beds to see which was more comfortable.

"What's the plan for tonight?" Sam asked sliding his bag off his arm onto the bed Dean didn't choose.

"Well, one of us should chat with that woman, get to know the history of the building, and the other should check the place out, find out where this Batton woman kicked it," Dean instructed, beginning to rummage through his bag for his EMF meter. Sam frowned.

"Hey Dean, I think this woman really meant something to Alex and Nikki, so do you think you might, I don't know, talk about her with a little more respect. Just for the girls, you know," Sam suggested. Dean looked at him in a little bit of surprise. Had Sam just asked him to be nicer?

"Yeah, sure," Dean said, figuring his brother had just lost his mind.

* * *

When Mrs. Mill offered to make them all dinner, it was natural that they'd except, and not only because they hadn't had any actual food in awhile, but also because it was a wonderful chance to talk her up. Normally, of course. It just so happened Mrs. Mill wanted to chat them up instead. After she served dinner and got them all eating, Mrs. Mill went on to ask them all questions, like where they were from, what they thought of the town, did they have any family. It would surprise the brothers to know that Alex's answers to these questions were mostly honest. Sam and Dean, however, did what they were good at, and lied.

"Well my dad was on the force back in San Antonio. I was in the Academy myself when he retired, and, well," Dean sighed, "30 years on the force and all they gave him was a watch. 30 years of risking his life every day making that town a better place, and all he got was a cheap, imitation gold watch? No, un uh, I decided that wasn't for me. So, I dropped out of the Academy, got myself a private investigator license, and that's what I've been doing ever since. Best decision I ever made."

Dean shrugged, leaned back in his chair, and folded his hands in his lap. Mrs. Mill and Nikki were watching him with great interest. Sam and Alex were impressed by Dean's lying as well, but neither were the sort to let him know that.

"And your father doesn't mind?" Mrs. Mill asked. Dean teetered his head from side to side in thought.

"Not at first, but then the watch broke, and he agreed with me a hundred percent," he explained. Mrs. Mill smiled and nodded. The conversation then changed as Nikki turned to her sister and signed something.

"Oh! Right! Good thing ya reminded me," Alex said and turned back to the table, "if ya'll will excuse me, I promised my boyfriend I'd call him at seven, and it's," she looked at her watch, "oh, excuse me, I got to go. Dinner was lovely, thank ya very much."

With that Alex smiled and left pretty quickly from the table. Nikki was still smiling at them all and Dean and Sam seemed every confused. This was the first they had ever heard of this boyfriend. The younger Winchester was wondering if he was a hunter too, while the older was wondering if it was the sort of man he'd approve of.

"Isn't that sweet? Are they very serious?" Mrs. Mill asked Nikki who nodded her head, pleased.

"How long they been together?" Dean asked. Nikki thought for a moment before holding up four fingers.

"Years?" he asked and Nikki nodded. He made a face.

"Seems like after four years he should sh-" Dean looked over at the round older woman and cut his 'shit or get off the pot' comment short, "think about taking the next step."

"Oh I'm sure she makes him think about it every day, doesn't she?" Mrs. Mill smiled warmly at Nikki who nodded again. Dean decided for a change in subject and nudged Sam's foot with his own. Sam looked over at him before remembering.

"Uh, um, hey, do we have any Tums up in the room?" he asked Dean pretending to try and sound quite.

"Not feeling well, dear?" Mrs. Mill asked him. Sam looked at her with that smile of his.

"I've just had a stomach all day, I'll take a few Tums, go lie down, it'll be fine," he wanted her not to worry.

"Yeah, they're in my bag," Dean told his brother as Sam excused himself and thanked Mrs. Mill for a lovely dinner. Dean watched him leave before turning to Mrs. Mill with a smile of his own.

"So, this is a lovely house you have here. How old is it?"

* * *

Sam did go back to their room, but only to get the EMF meter and digital camera. With Dean and probably Nikki occupying Mrs. Mill's time, Sam was going to poke his nose around. He hadn't heard anything of there being other people in the house, but if Sam happened to run into one he could always say he got lost trying to get back to the dining room.

It always helps to come up with your lies in advance.

Putting on the ear phones and clicking the EMF meter on, Sam began to move about the hallways. Before dinner they had gone over both their room and the sisters', but they showed nothing. It was a safe bet that the room Louise Batton died in would yield some results, though. Sam wasn't sure which room that was, but it had only been a few days since her death, so he'd look for the room covered in police tape.

He was glad that they had decided not to involve the sisters too much in this particular investigation. Though Sam was sure Alex and Nikki had seen their fair share of crime scenes and gore, it's different when the victim was someone you know. Especially someone you've known for almost ten years and met when you were, uh, young. Sam wasn't positive how old the sisters were, but it didn't really matter.

"Ah, dammit," Sam said as he bumped into that ceramic cat again and almost knocked it over… again. He hated clutter, especially ornamental clutter. The hallways, he discovered, were filled with it, too. There were lots and lots of small, delicate, way too adorable stuff. And flowers, there was a least two vases of flowers in each hall. The only unhappy thing being displayed was the band of yellow police tape across one of the doors.

Sam smiled with his success and walked over to it. The EMF meter began to pick something up, but that only half interested Sam. What really interested him was the slightly opened door and light bouncing around behind it. Taking the earphones from his ears and putting them in his pocket along with the meter, Sam took out his flashlight and slipped a hand into his pocket to grip the handle of a pistol. Slowing his pace he crept up on the door. He untapped one side of the tape so he wouldn't have to duck under it, and slowly, so slowly, pushed the door open, hoping to get as good a look as he could.

With the supernatural things as well as with people, it was common for them to return to the scene of the crime. This act did, however, usually portray some sense of intellect, a mind that had meant to attack instead of just acting on instinct. So, naturally, Sam expected that whatever was in the room was dangerous and wanted as much element of surprise as possible.

Hearing the shuffling of feet and watching a spot of light move around the room, Sam whipped the door open and aimed his pistol as best he could and where he thought it'd be. He heard a scream and knew he was an idiot.

"What the hell are ya doing?" Alex asked him in angry shock as she reached down to pick up her accidentally discarded flashlight. Sam sighed and put the pistol back in his pocket.

"I thought you were on the phone with your boyfriend," he told her. Alex rolled her eyes.

"I don't have a boyfriend, I just needed to get away from the table so I could look around," she explained. Sam felt like an idiot again. He probably should have assumed that, it's not like Alex wasn't the type to lie.

"Why are you working alone?" Sam asked. The Charles sisters usually came as a pair.

"I left Nikki to grill Mrs. Mill," Alex shrugged and began looking around again. Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

"But Nikki's mute…"

"No kidding, really?" Alex faked shock.

"I mean, how is she supposed to get information from Mrs. Mill when she can't ask anything?" he clarified. Alex stopped looking around and stood silent for a moment. Then she turned and gave Sam a plain look.

"Ya ever notice how people like to talk? They just start to say things, and if ya let them, they'll go on and on and on. Most of the time it's silly things, but if they had something big happen to them, and if ya have that sort of harmless look some people do, they'll tell ya things that are actually important…" she was very profound. Sam thought for a moment and nodded his head. He had that sort of look, so he knew what she meant. Now that he thought about it, Nikki did have that look too, maybe more so than he did. She was under six feet tall, that made her seem less harmless then he was.

"Where's Dean?" she asked.

"Oh, uh, grilling Mrs. Mill," he shrugged sheepishly. His brother's ankle was healing but still not up to sneaking around. Alex let out a sigh and lowered her head.

"Well, maybe it won't be so bad. Dean can be sort of charming when he tries…" Alex tried to reassure herself. Sam nodded in agreement.

"So, you find anything?"

"No," she sulked. Sam took a look around the room himself. It was like he expected, a guest room just like the others. It was sweet and lovely, enough to make a weaker man cry. The only major differences between the other rooms and this one were the over turned chairs, the clothes thrown about, and of course the outline of a person in one corner of the room.

"Well, I guess that's it, then," Sam really didn't know what else to say about it. Alex just sort of frowned, having an even less idea of what to say. So, Sam turned his EMF meter on again and walked over to the outline on the floor. There were a few blips but nothing too spectacular. He figured it was about right for the spot where a medium had died. Sam shrugged slightly, just in time for the EMF to spike violently.

"What are you doing here?" a voice asked as Sam turned down to the meter. Both he and Alex turned to the door to see a little boy, probably only on the brink of puberty. His skin was pale and offset his large blue eyes and dark hair.

"Oh, um," Sam answered turning the EMF meter off and looking at him with a smile.

"We're investigating her death," Alex straightened her shoulders and raised her chin, trying to be authoritative.

"Whose?" the boy asked. This took Alex for a loop and she lost all sense of authority the boy might have given her.

"Louise Batton," Sam answered for her. The boy looked at him with the sort of icy stare Sam thought might just be normal for the child.

"The woman who died here?"

"The woman who was murdered here," Alex corrected him. The boy shrugged.

"Who are you, exactly?" Sam asked.

"I'm Jacob Grant, Mrs. Mill is my grandmother," he explained. Sam and Alex looked at each other like two people who were about to be in a lot of trouble.

"Uh, did you ever talk to her, to Louise?" Alex was quick to act like there was no reason for her not to be there. Sam knew pretty well that most the time people knew you were doing something you shouldn't be just by the guilty expression on your face, so he, like Alex, acted like he was just where he should be.

"I helped her to her room," the boy said simply, looking around the room for change. His eyes fell on the body outline in the corner, but his face seemed just as calm and bored as it had the entire conversation.

"How was she? Did she seem nervous, frightened?" Alex asked. Jacob shook his head.

"Did she say anything about why she was here?" Sam asked this time. The boy turned his icy gaze to Sam again.

"She said she was looking into some family history, that she had an ancestor buried in the local cemetery," he explained.

"She say who?" Alex asked. Jacob looked at her for a moment and finally shook his head. Alex frowned, displeased, but didn't vocalize it.

"I don't think either of you should be in here," the boy told them. At that Alex was plenty vocal.

* * *

"Little punk," Dean agreed with her with a snort. All four were now in the brothers' room, informing everyone of everything. Alex had explained about their encounter with Jacob Grant in a much better way than Sam felt he would have. On the other side, Nikki felt the same about Dean's recount of the rather uninteresting history of the inn.

"He seemed pretty serious about it, too. I'm not sure how easy it'll be getting back in there," Sam shrugged.

"Maybe we won't have to," Alex had a sly grin now. Nikki signed something that, in a matter of speaking, seemed to voice the question on the brothers' minds.

"Before Dennis the Menace showed up I managed to grab this," Alex answered and pulled out a smallish sized notebook from under her coat. Nikki smiled and grabbed it eagerly, flipping through the pages.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"Louise's diary. She wrote about everything. Whatever she was doing here, is in there," she explained. Dean nodded in approval because, like his father, he wasn't the sort to actually tell someone when he thought they did something well.

"Even if she was just here doing genealogy?" Sam asked and Alex rolled her eyes.

"Don't let the Batton in her name fool you, Louise is 100 percent pure Mexican, she doesn't have any family up here, never has," Alex told them.

"Alright, so, what was she doing up here?" Sam shrugged. Nikki read for a few more moments, now rather serious looking, and finally handed the book back to her sister, pointing to a part on a page.

"'A spirit named Ronald Curry contacted me. He's located at-'" Alex looked up at them, "she gives a lot number."

* * *

They slept that night and headed out in the morning with some muffins from Mrs. Mill, who seemed like the sort of woman the eerie Jacob Grant would never have as a grandmother. She wished them all good luck with their little 'adventure.' The reason the four had waited until day was, besides how painful it'd be for the brothers to try and scale a cemetery fence right now, the lot number really wouldn't help if they couldn't look through the books and find out where it was. So they waited until the cemetery would be open and had gone through the books before finding the current location of Ronald Curry.

"This is a nice place," Sam said to break the eerie, grave searching silence that had fallen on the four of them as they ambled through the cemetery. It helped that his statement was true, as it was filled with nice, shady trees, well kept grass, and only a small amount of moss covering the stones.

"Yeah," Alex agreed, "Nikki and I got a place like this for us in Alabama."

Dean and Sam stopped and looked at the two sisters.

"You already have your plots bought?" Dean asked in surprise. Alex turned around to him.

"Yeah, of course. Ya gotta look to the future," she shrugged. Her sister seemed to be in agreement.

"Yeah, but buying grave plots?" it was a little too creepy even for Sam.

"Only way to make sure we get what we want. What do you guys want to happen to you when you die?"

"Cremated," they said in unison. The sisters looked at them.

"Then how are we supposed to come see you? Ya'll gotta be buried so we can visit," Alex instructed and continued on her way.

"Do you know what they do to you before they bury you? The paint, the breaking of bones so you fit?" Dean asked hobbling after them.

"That's just an old wives' tale," Alex waved it off.

"Yeah? Well so are ghosts," Dean had a good point.

"Oh shut up," was all Alex could come up with.

"Hey, guys!" Sam called after them all. Dean and Alex's little bickering stopped and soon all three had walked over around him. Sure enough, Sam had found the gravestone marked 'Ronald Curry.' Dean reached into his pocket and pulled on the EMF meter. Turning it on, all he could get was a minor blip.

"Could be something, could not be something," he sighed and shrugged. He looked over at Nikki.

"So do your thing," he instructed. It took Nikki a moment to realize he was talking to her, and looked at Dean in mild surprise.

"What?" he asked, "do your medium thing. Let's talk to this guy."

"She's not going to channel him," Alex told him.

"Why not? How else are we gonna find out what he wants?"

"This guy mighta killed Louise!"

"She's channeled killers before," Sam tried to bring reason.

"Yeah, but, that was different. Those ghosts only killed normal people," Alex looked displeased having to say it like that.

"What do you mean, 'normal?'" Sam asked.

"Normal, you know, like, no powers or anything. This guy mighta killed a powerful psychic, ain't no way I'm letting it get a crack at my little sister," she explained in no uncertain terms. No one noticed it, but Dean glanced over at his little brother before looking back at Alex and sighing in defeat.

"Alright fine then… What would Louise have done when she got here?" he asked. Maybe if they did what she did they'd find out what happened. Alex bit the inside of her lip and looked away from both men.

"She would have channeled him," she said. The Winchesters let out a sigh of aggravation each and Dean even went so far as to hobble a few steps and sit down on a gravestone, which isn't disrespectful at all.

"Well that's _great_. So what do you think we should do?" he and Alex began to bicker again. Sam had trouble figuring out if the elder Winchester and Charles bickered like an old married couple, or more like a brother and sister. He never made a decision, as the gravestone Dean was sitting on caught his eye.

"Dean…" he got his brother's attention, "what does that stone say?"

Dean, quiet now, looked between his legs but had to stand up and walk away from the stone to read it.

"'Our beloved son, Jacob Grant. 1902 to 1913,'" he read, looking at his brother as he finished.

"Jacob Grant? That's the punk kid's name!" Alex stated the obvious.

"That's just gotta be a coincidence or something. An ancestor or… or…" Dean started but noticed Sam looking at him, "right, how often is it a coincidence?"

"So are we thinking the kid did it?" Alex wanted to make sure.

"If Louise saw this he might have killed her to shut her up about… whatever…" Sam had no more idea what was going on than anyone else did. Nikki signed something.

"You think the nice old lady did it?" Alex asked her surprise. Nikki just shrugged.

"That wouldn't surprise me a bit," Dean said.

"Me neither," his brother added.

"Okay, so, what we're saying is this kid, or someone who has to do with this kid, killed Louise?"

"That's what it looks like."

"So what do we do?" Alex asked and the brothers thought for a moment.

"I think we should keep to doing what she did. What else did her journal say?" Sam asked.

"Just what I read…" Alex answered, "and the letters LN."

"LN? What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked. All Alex could do was shrug.

* * *

They got lunch. What? It was getting near lunch time and Dean was hungry, so the lady at the McDonald's drive thru got a thrill and a good look at the Impala. Mrs. Mill welcomed them back and they all cautiously made their way up to the brothers' room to talk things over. While Alex and Dean were bickering… _again_… Nikki told her sister she needed something from their room and left.

This was a lie.

It's an unfortunate part of Nikki's nature that she usually had such little problems with lying to people, even to her sister. It was something she did often and easily. Nikki had the sort of face that people wouldn't only talk to, but believe. She seemed so generally transparent that people would assume they'd know if she were lying.

No one had re-taped the door to the room Louise Batton had died in, so Nikki only had to look up and down the hallway before turning the knob and walking in. Switching on her flashlight, she began searching around the room, trying to keep the light off the outline of Louise's body. Many years ago, Louise and the Charles sisters had made a promise that if anything had happened to the one, the other would look into it. Since Nikki was also a medium, Louise had trusted her more than she trusted Alex, and this was why Nikki knew what LN meant and Alex didn't. Literally, LN stood for 'Letter Nikki.' They had decided that if they ever felt like something big was going to happen, that something dangerous was after them, they'd right a letter to help each other out, just in case. So that's what Nikki was doing. If Louise had bothered to write LN down, she must have written and hid a letter. Nikki only needed to find it.

Going through most of the room, Nikki eventually got to the closet. Now, having seen and lived a horror movie or two in her life, she fully expected something to come flying out of the closet at her when she opened it. So, when Nikki turned the handle and opened the door, she took a flying leap out of the way. Nothing flew out at her. Cautiously she looked inside.

All she could see was a small flashing light near the floor. Moving the beam of her flashlight over it, Nikki found a tape recorder. Knelling down, she saw the tape had been all used up so she rewound it and after a moment hit the play button.

"_Are you here_?" Louise's voice came out of it. Nikki listened to the white noise that followed and Louise repeated the question a few times, each time followed by more white noise. She was probably trying to pick up EVP.

"_Do you know what year it is_?" Louise asked and again more repeating and white noise. Nikki listened carefully but heard no responses. Then, quite suddenly, there was a clamoring on the tape. She heard Louise gasp and foot steps. Nikki could hear the door opening.

"_What are you doing here_?" she heard Louise ask. There was no response the recorder could pick up, but there were more foot steps.

"_No, no please. Don't. You can't do this_," Louise's voice cried with panic, "_Please don't do this_."

"_I'm quite sorry, but I'm afraid I rather have to_," Nikki heard a voice she herself had never heard before.

"_No_! Don't!" Louise's voice cried out in pain and Nikki quickly hit the stop button. She crouched there for a moment, trying to get the image of Louise with her face contorted in fear and pain out of her head. Louise had been the first real medium Nikki had met. She helped Nikki understand and come to terms with things. She had been there when Nikki had questions Alex couldn't answer. Louise had helped her so much.

"I was hoping you'd be the one to come," a voice said from behind her. Quickly Nikki turned around just as the lights flicked on. The sudden light blinded her for a few moments.

"But I never thought you'd bring something so powerful along with you," Nikki's eyes adjusted just in time to see the young boy standing in the door way. His icy blue eyes looked into her.

* * *

It was only a brief, shrill whistle, but it was enough for Alex to hear. She and the Winchester brothers were discussing whether or not whatever killed Louise could be a demon, when Alex stood up abruptly and listened.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Shh!" she commanded and they all listened.

"I think I heard Nikki," she said charging for the door.

"What!" Dean asked as he and his brother started after her.

"How do you _hear_ Nikki?" Sam asked handing his brother a crutch and following Alex already down the hall.

"She has a whistle, it's for emergencies," she explained. The brothers remembered this from when the girl had almost choked to death because of the camera. Nikki had blown a whistle to get their attention.

"Are you sure?" Dean was hobbling quickly behind them. Alex didn't answer, she just turned the handle to their room. It didn't open. She grabbed her key, unlocked it, and opened it.

"Nikki!" she yelled inside the dark room. They all heard a clatter come from down the hall and saw an open door surrounded by hanging loose police tape.

"Oh crap," Dean said. Alex screamed out her sister's name again and ran down the hall at full speed, Sam behind her. In all truth, if he had room, Sam could have gotten ahead of Alex in about three steps. The sisters really were out of shape.

The lights in the room were on and when Alex and Sam poked their heads in it they saw Nikki laying back down on the floor, having what could only be described as a seizure. Standing not far above her was Jacob Grant, his hand held calmly out above her.

"Nikki!" Alex yelled again and ran toward her sister. Jacob looked at her and moved his eyes quickly to the left. Alex went with them. Flying off her feet, Alex crashed into a desk and toppled over with it. Sam stood in the doorway in no small amount of confusion. He would have done something, if he had any idea of what to do. At this time Dean arrived, and he always knew what to do. Leaning against the door frame, he pulled out a gun and fired at Jacob.

This didn't work.

The bullet went right through the boy without even leaving a mark. Now, that happening is usually a bad sign in itself, but when it's followed by the person who got shot smiling amused, it becomes a _very_ bad sign.

Instead of flying off to the side like Alex did, Jacob pulled Dean into the room and smashed him against the opposite wall. Dean went from a blur of gun, crutch, and coat with the collar up in the back to a moaning, swearing lump on the floor. Still smiling, Jacob looked at Sam. He closed the hand that was above Nikki and brought it to his side. She stopped quaking and grew still, though Sam could still see her breathing heavily.

"I really only wanted her, but you're just a wonderful little bonus," Jacob told Sam, apparently very pleased.

"Who are you?" Sam asked.

"I'm Jacob Grant," he answered. Sam found himself slammed down onto the room floor, having not even the time to brace himself with his hands. Jacob waved his hand and soon Sam found himself looking up at the ceiling.

"Jacob Grant is dead," Sam said, trying to buy himself time to figure things out. Since he wasn't currently able to move, he figured he'd need as much time as he could get.

"A seventh son of a seventh son can't die," Jacob told him quite clearly.

"Is that what you are, then? A seventh son of a seventh son?" Sam asked as the boy's face came into view above him. It was a ghastly looking smile that boy had.

"How astute," apparently even a seventh son of a seventh son can be sarcastic.

"What do you want with us?" Sam asked, feeling a dull pain in the back of his head and breaking out in a cold sweat.

"I need to feed, and not on anything that crazy old woman can make," Jacob said. That dull pain became stronger, much stronger. Sam tried to clamp his mouth shut for as long as he could, not give that kid the satisfaction of knowing the pain trying to burst out of Sam's head. He couldn't take it anymore. It just wanted to scream. And he heard it, only it wasn't him, it wasn't Sam screaming, and it wasn't in pain.

Sam opened his eyes just in time to see Alex slam her left fist into the side of the boy's face. Now, seeing as how a bullet did little good, Sam didn't think Alex hitting the kid would have any affect, but he was wrong. Jacob staggered several steps backward and Sam looked to see the burning pentacle in his face where Alex had punched him. This came as a surprise to Alex too, as she looked at her fist. Now, Sam had seen a lot of all of the bracelets Alex had around each wrist and the huge amount of necklaces and charms she wore, and he didn't remember the pentacles on that bracelet glowing like that before.

"What did you do?" Jacob asked, clutching his cheek in horror. Sam watched the confidence swell inside Alex as she looked over at her sister and back to the boy. Stepping over Sam, Alex went on to basically pummel the evil little boy with her left fist until he fell to the ground. When he was down, Alex took off the charm bracelet and held it against the boy's heart. Jacob began to scream, but Alex ignored him.

"Trice around the circle's bound," she said, "sink all evil into the ground."

Sam watched as Alex recited this two more times, each time the pentacles on her bracelet glowing brighter and brighter.

"So mote it be!" she yelled and the glowing stopped. The glowing stopped because Jacob was gone. Sam watched the young looking boy sink into the floor boards and disappear. There was silence for a few moments and Sam kept his eyes on Alex for them.

He was feeling something for her and, he'd admit this, he was fairly certain it was pride. If he didn't feel so much like crap he'd give her a slap on the back and a 'good job!'

* * *

"Little punk," Dean said as he grunted a little in pain. He was easing himself into the back seat of the Impala, and the pain wasn't from his foot. His back ached like mad. Dean had been thrown against plenty of walls in his time, and it always hurt like hell. He looked over to the other side of the car and saw Nikki clutching her head as she had been doing for awhile and taking another Ibuprofen. In the seat in front of Dean Sam said Nikki's name so she handed him the bottle. His head hurt just as much as hers did. The driver's side car opened and Alex got in, slamming it shut behind her, making Sam and Nikki recoil in pain. Alex buckled herself in, trying to keep the bag of ice on her left knuckles.

"Yeah, so, apparently Mrs. Mill has no memories of what's happened in the past few months or so," she explained, doing a check to make sure everyone else was buckled in too.

"So Jacob was just messing with her mind the whole time?" Dean asked. He was apparently too loud as Nikki slapped him in the shoulder softly.

"Something like that," Alex said and started the car. The radio kicked on loud and again Sam and Nikki recoiled in pain.

"Sorry, sorry," Alex apologized after turning the radio off. Sam let out a sigh and rested his forehead on the cold glass of his window.

* * *

"There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home," Dean heard Judy Garland say her famous lines. He opened his eyes and still found himself in the dark. After a moment his eyes began to adjust and he could see a TV screen playing _The Wizard of Oz_. Already standing, he walked around the couch between him and the television set. There were four people on the couch, three in chairs around it, and one guy was sitting on the floor. They were all watching the movie intently, but the one person who seemed the most interested was a little girl sitting on the couch. Dean watched the small, blonde child for a moment, and his eyes widened in surprise as she phased in and out for a moment. No one else seemed to notice this, actually no one else seemed to notice Dean, either. Taking a step closer to her, Dean could tell the girl wasn't real. She was pale, too pale even for the darkness, and her hair just seemed to move slightly, like it was floating, but just barely.

She had to be a ghost.

But the girl seemed like a perfectly nice ghost, smiling and happy and, Dean would admit this, rather adorable.

"And you were there, and you, and you!" Judy Garland spoke and Dean looked back at the screen. He watched it for a few moments, only until the credits began to roll up it. Turning back to the couch, Dean found the girl mysteriously gone.

"Sally get the lights," a woman said. Dean watched someone get out of a chair and walk through the dark to the wall. The lights came on and Dean could see the woman better.

Alex and Nikki had been right, Sally was the Blackfoot woman in the photograph.

"She's gone," an older woman said looking at the couch in shock. This brought Dean's attention back to the space the little girl had been. With the lights on he could see the faded, plum colored fabric on the couch, as well as the three remaining people on it. One was an older Hispanic looking woman, and the other two were teenaged Black girls.

"We did say all she wanted was to watch the end of the movie," an Alabama accent came out of the older one. Dean's eyes widened in greater surprise and he took a step back away from the couch. Alex set her feet up on the coffee table and smiled with pride over the space the ghost girl had been, to where Nikki sat. Nikki, looking about 14, gave her sister a sheepish smile back

"What the _Hell_…" Dean said under his breath.

He then woke up with a start.

After a moment to realize he was still in the Impala, Dean let out a sigh. The car made a funny noise somewhere beneath him but he didn't care. His ankle, though warm, also ached slightly, but he didn't care about that either. Dean raised a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Where are we?" he asked Sam, as the back of his brother's head seemed to be awake.

"Almost to the state line," he answered. Dean grunted in response and went about stretching everything as much as he could. Nikki patted his ankle slightly, causing him to look at her. She smiled her usual smile so he gave her a fake one back.

Dean was glad Nikki was only a medium, and he was glad Sam only had pre-cog and TK, if either were a mind reader they might know about his dreams…


	27. Eloise Ward

_**Eloise Ward**_

* * *

"Matt, come on. Stop it. I thought you came here to study!" 16-year-old Ginger Riley said to the teenage boy sitting next to her. Now, what she said was both true and not true. Matt had _said_ he wanted to come to the library to study, it's just that Ginger never actually _thought_ that's what he really wanted. She'd been right about that.

"And you believed me?" Matt asked, resting his hand on her leg under the table and getting his mouth as close to her neck as possible. Ginger, keeping her body perfectly still, looked around the library for any signs of other people. She was a bit of a slut, she admitted it, but it wasn't something she liked to display to the world. She and Matt seemed to be alone, so she bit her lower lip and looked over to him.

"Well, no, but I thought we'd at least get to page two before you dropped pretense," she said as sexily as she could, which, for a 16-year-old, really sounded more like she was trying to convince him she hadn't just cheated at hide and seek. But, he was a 16-year-old boy, and didn't really care. If she was willing, he was able.

"I love it when you talk smart," he said and Ginger giggled. She didn't giggle so much because of the irony of what he said, as much as because his hand was moving higher up under her skirt. Ginger moved her hand to his face and kissed him playfully on the cheek. He groaned playfully and went to capture her giggling mouth with his when he saw something in the corner of his eye.

"Jesus Christ!" he yelled, falling back into his chair and looking across the table in shock. Ginger, greatly surprised, and a little offended, looked across the table and gasped in shock and embarrassment. There stood a tall, thin, mean looking woman with thick black rimmed glasses and a look of death. She was looking at them sternly and with quite a bit of judgment.

"You scared the hell out of me!" Matt told her while Ginger looked away from the woman's stare.

"We weren't doing anything," she tried to say defiantly anyway. She looked to the woman again just in time to see a long, boney finger rise to the woman's mouth to silence them.

Ginger felt a cold wave flow through her and she opened her mouth to speak, but made no noise at all.

* * *

"I told you that wasn't a short cut," Sam had to say as Alex pulled out of the forest and on to a main road, at last. For the last hour or so, they'd been driving around some back, muddy roads that Alex was sure she had driven through before. She hadn't, and she never wanted to again.

"Shut up," she grumbled to the younger Winchester as the rather muddied Impala left similarly muddied tire tracks on the empty main road. Dean was still in the back seat, staring malevolently at the back of Alex's head. It was a good thing she wore so much protection against the Evil Eye, because if she didn't she'd have been in a lot of trouble. Dean was smart enough to know he had to calm himself down, so he looked over at Nikki who was usually smiling and rather uplifting to look at. Right now her eyes were large and sad as she read over some letter in her hand. He was not uplifted at all.

"This stupid mud," Alex grumbled, "I wish it would rain. Sam make it rain!"

Sam looked over at her a little perplexed, since the command seemed genuine.

"Yeah, sure. Let me just wave my hand and do my rain dance," he was of course being sarcastic but waved his hand and stomped his feet on the car floor anyway. There was a potato chip bag that crackled under his feet but that wasn't a part of the dance.

It did serve to lift Dean's spirit, though.

"Hey can I ask a question?" he addressed the car but really it was aimed at Alex.

"Not if it's about the shortcut," she grumbled. He gave the back of her head another evil look.

"It's not."

"Ask away then, but, if you ask one we ask one," she stated rather simply. Dean paused for a very long time. He wasn't in a position to agree to that and then back out, but he wasn't sure what the sisters would ask.

"Dean we might be beyond secrets at this time," Sam told him casually.

"Alright fine," he said, "how'd you know that spell or whatever would work?"

Alex paused like she was trying to decide to honor the agreement herself.

"The woman who gave me the bracelet was Wiccan. She said if anything evil responded to the pentacle like that to say that spell," her explanation was rather simple as well as perfectly true. Dean frowned a bit, hoping it had been something a bit more interesting than that. He would have felt better if he had known Alex had never actually used the spell before and was largely amazed that it had worked.

"Now our question," Alex said even though it was basically her question, the Charles sisters occasionally became one even to themselves.

"Yeah, what is it?" Dean wanted to get this over with. There was some apprehension as Alex glanced over at Sam and Dean could see the serious, stern profile of her face.

"What did that thing mean when he said you were powerful?" she asked. Sam looked over at her, and Dean saw his serious and stern profile as well.

"What do you mean?"

"The kid, that seventh son of a seventh son. He called you powerful and fed off you just like he fed off Nikki, what did that mean?" she asked. The tone of her voice reminded Dean of all the various times he'd been interrogated by the police. Sam was silent, reminding himself now that they might be beyond secrets at this time. A little ashamed he looked forward at the road again so neither of them were looking at each other. Dean and Nikki were looking at them both eagerly.

"I see things," was all Sam said, as if he could get away with just that.

"What kinds of things?"

"Like, things. In my dreams. I have dreams and, sometimes, they come true," he confessed, still looking at the street ahead. He'd be damned if that ever got easier to say. Alex was understandably silent. Nikki was silent too, but she didn't really have a choice with that.

"You're a pre-cog?" Alex wanted to clarify. Sam shrugged and nodded his head.

"Yeah, and I kind of moved something once… with my mind," he felt like a fool, he had to admit it, he felt like a fool. What sort of person actually says these things and means them? Alex was again silent, and Dean could feel the pressure building, expecting her to burst out in angered ranting of why they hadn't told her.

"Was it a big thing, or, like, a spoon?" she asked.

"A big thing," Sam admitted. Dean watched in surprise as Alex nodded her head in approval and, he was pretty sure, some pride.

"Damn boy, that is some powerful stuff," she said and chuckled once.

"You're not weirded out?" Sam asked in surprise.

"Weirded out? Sam, have you met my sister? She channels dead people," Alex even motioned backward to Nikki with her thumb. That was… a very good point.

Sam smiled and chuckled a little himself before slouching back in his seat with relief. Dean was still a little confused himself, but he'd relax about it soon. After, of course, it stopped raining.

Everyone in the car looked out their window as a sudden shower began to fall on the car and help wash it clean. It wasn't even a light rain, it was really coming down.

Dean looked forward at his brother.

"Dude that's not funny," he said, not liking the idea of his brother summoning the weather, and not totally comprehending the idea of what a coincidence is.

"Well," Alex started, "it is a little funny."

* * *

Being the two non-badly wounded of the group, it was the job for the Charles sisters to go to the grocery store and buy food. This pleased Sam for two reasons. The first, was that they'd probably get something that was actual food instead of the snacks Dean always got. The second was this gave him time to talk to Dean alone.

"Hey do you think we have to let a psychic know if we're going to be a little late?" Sam asked suggestively. Dean, who had been watching a woman rolling a grocery cart down the row of cars, looked forward and narrowed his eyebrows, wondering what his brother was getting at.

"Why, are we planning on being late?" he asked. Sam took this as a door in and quickly unbuckled himself and turned around in his seat, laptop ready for presentation. He handed it to Dean who began to look it over.

"In a town not far from here there's a library where all sorts of people claim to have seen the spirit of a woman appear in front of them," Sam started. Dean looked up at him to let him know to go on.

"They all reported that as soon as she raised a finger to her lips, like to silence them, they all lost the ability to speak. To make any sound, really. They've all been looked at by doctors, but no one can explain a thing."

"Sounds like the librarian from hell," Dean commented.

"Now no one's really been hurt yet, and it only started a few months ago, but…"

"These things can escalate in violence."

"Yeah, plus, I figure…" Sam tottered his head from side to side, unsure of himself, "a thing like this might not be hard to convince the sisters to go along with."

At that moment the brothers looked over to the grocery store to see said sisters walking out of it and across the parking lot toward them.

Dean would really not mind seeing this librarian go after Alex.

* * *

"So you really don't mind?" Sam asked picking a dropped clump of tuna fish off his shirt and eating it. The sisters had brought back real food, including sandwiches. Sam was pretty happy. They didn't bring enough, though. Jessica had always told him he had the metabolism of a large horse. He had been the bane of the workers in the dinning hall at Stanford.

"Why would we mind?" Alex asked setting her sandwich on the seat between them, "ghost hunting is what we do."

"I know. I just didn't want you to think we were taking advantage of Nikki being mute," Sam wanted to keep peace with these friends.

"Hey, the more ways we can find an advantage in her being mute the better it is. Right Nikki?" Alex called backward. Nikki gave her a thumb's up, which was sign language even the Winchester brothers could understand.

"Alright, then. This one shouldn't be too hard, she doesn't seem dangerous or anything," Sam reassured them.

"Great! How soon do we want to be there?" Alex asked.

"As fast as we can without taking anymore short cuts," Dean responded.

* * *

They all felt the local police responded to the situation rather sensibly. The library wasn't exactly a crime scene, as no real crime any one could think of had been committed, but eight people had 'hallucinated' and fallen mute, so something needed to be done. In tradition with humanity's ability to come up with explanations for things, these attacks had been decided on as some sort of disease or virus contained somewhere in the library. So the place had been quarantined and the only people who could get in or out the guarded building were people in hazmat suits. Dean grumbled to himself from the Impala where Alex had parked it down the street from the library. Nikki patted his foot slightly in a sign of comfort and looked out her window with him. They were only half a block away from the library but it was still easy for them both to pick their sibling out of the crowd. Sam made things easy by being a head taller than everyone else, while Alex made herself visible by having the privilege of being the only Black person there.

"What's taking them so long?" Dean asking mostly rhetorically. If Nikki had an answer he would have liked to know it. Seeing the two down the block still talking with no signs of stopping, Dean grumbled again and leaned back in his seat. Nikki turned her attention off the two as well and bent over to pull out a worn black book. The sound of flipping pages made Dean look over and saw her starting to write in it.

"What's that?" he asked. Nikki looked over at him and opened her mouth to speak like she had forgotten she was mute. Dean was beginning to realize she did this whenever she was at a loss for words. So, instead of trying to figure out how to explain it to him, Nikki just handed him the book.

He opened it to the first page, naturally, and found a picture of a small brick building and two pages filled with writing and drawings of symbols. The two symbols on these pages he recognized as ancient protection symbols. Curious, he flipped through the next few pages and found more pictures, writing, and symbols. Flipping back to the first Dean actually read some of the writing. They were brief notes on Andrew Watts and the Alabama Historical Society Museum. Reading over the next page or so, Dean realized this was the Charles sisters' log book. He looked up at her in a mix of approval and surprise before reading a bit more through the book. There were two pictures, one of each sister dated as 1996, a decade ago. The oddest things about these pictures were the ages written beside them.

Alex aged 19.

Me aged 14.

Now Dean looked up at Nikki in pure amazement.

"You're 24?" he asked her surprised. Nikki looked surprised by his surprise but nodded. She leaned over with her pen and wrote '7/12' at the top of that page, indicating her birthday. This unnerved Dean slightly, as he had always thought of her as being much younger, possibly still a teenager, maybe. It had never occurred to him she'd be older than Sam.

"Wait… wait, wait…" another thought occurred to him. He looked down at Alex's age again. 19. 19 plus 10 is…

"Alex is 29?" he asked and Nikki nodded again, wondering why this all seemed so shocking to him. Dean let out a long, irritated sigh and looked up at the ceiling, resting the back of his head on the seat.

Alex is older then he is. And not just by a month or a day, but two years older. With his father gone, Dean had gotten accustomed to being the older one, the eldest one, and now he'd been bumped off by Alex Charles off all people. He felt so inferior, so… little.

It so distressed him that Dean was too distracted by it to notice all of the various little bits written in the book that should have led to many important questions he could ask the Charles sisters.

* * *

After a rather long and rather uncomfortable silence, Sam and Alex returned to the car. Alex was flipping through some pages of a notebook and she and the younger Winchester were talking rather excitedly. As Dean watched them both approach he had to think that, by Jove, they were friends. Both were smiling, laughing sometimes, were paying attention to each other, and seemed to be communicating easily. It didn't even look like flirting, either. They were each sort of comfortably sauntering along without a care in the world about body language, pick up lines, or getting a phone number. They were just being buddies. Dean had long been an advocate that a man and a woman couldn't be 'just friends,' (never mind what that meant for his father and Eve Apple's relationship,) but the Charles sisters were beginning to change his mind.

"I don't believe ya said that as my name," they could hear Alex before she opened the Impala door. Sam was walking around the front of the car, smiling.

"How was I supposed to know he knew who Hester Prynne is?" Sam really wasn't defending himself as much as he was just plain amused. Alex was buckling up by the time he opened his door.

"It's his favorite book," Alex raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Yeah well, that was just bad luck," Sam said buckling himself in.

"Who knew Nathaniel Hawthorne would be so popular in Wyoming?" Alex asked and Sam shrugged.

"Hey, do you mind?" Dean asked and both Sam and Alex turned to look at him, "we sort of weren't there, so could you tell us what the hell happened?"

"Oh, right, sorry," Sam apologized as Alex wasn't really the apologizing type, "it's quarantined, no one can get in there without a HazMat suit."

"Any chance of the quarantine being lifted?"

"Not before we can get in there," Alex said driving the car away from the curb.

"Apparently yesterday one of the doctors lost her voice too, even with the HazMat suit on," Sam explained with a shrug. This didn't surprise Dean too much. People never know when to shut up.

"Alright, so we wait until nightfall."

"Surveillance is probably 24 hours."

"So before night fall we go buy some HazMat suits."

"Do you know how much those cost?" Alex asked him. Dean rolled his eyes and sighed.

"We buy _costume_ suits, jeesh," he corrected himself.

* * *

"The other ones were orange," Alex commented holding up a blue HazMat suit and looking it over. The four were in a motel room, the sisters looking over the suits, Sam reading through his father's notebook, and Dean trying to eat shrimp chow mein with chop sticks, something he had never gotten used to. He could throw a knife into a bulls-eye at 50 feet, put he couldn't use chop sticks.

"It's the only color they had. You can just say you're Class A personnel and they're Class B or C or something," Sam suggested.

"Why are we the ones going in anyway? I'd think you two would want a look, even with your injuries" Alex asked looking over the helmet. The brothers shared a disgruntled look.

"They didn't have any that fit us," Sam practically muttered before turning back to the journal. Alex and Nikki stopped looking at the suits.

"What? Not fit you? These things are huge!" Alex held one up to demonstrate. The blue suit flopped all the way to the floor where its heavy boots went _thunk_. Sam sighed.

"There weren't any that were tall enough," he turned the page and Dean stuck a third shrimp into his mouth. Alex nodded in understanding.

"I did always kinda figure your mom knew the Jolly Green Giant a little too well," she said. Dean gave her a frown and Sam decided to ignore her. He did look up when Nikki put her helmet on and signed something to Alex. The elder sister just shook her head.

"I keep telling you, the 'Luke I am you father' line doesn't work if you're mute, it never will," she explained. Sam suppressed a grin and Dean playfully threw a shrimp at Nikki's helmet. It hit her and bounced off some where, leaving a saucy imprint on the helmet shield.

"But seriously guys, you're letting us do this one on our own?" Alex asked them seriously as Nikki tried to clean the sauce off.

"I think you can handle it," Dean shrugged, thinking about the log book he'd seen. It had been mostly filled; the sisters didn't seem to be as amateurish at ghost hunting as he had thought. They all looked at him surprised.

"Really?" Alex asked, impressed. Dean nodded, feeling slightly like the Godfather or something. Indeed, Dean's faith in them did make the sisters feel slightly more important.

"Okay then, well, we got some more stuff to bring in from the car, but when we get back we'll talk about strategies, okay?" Alex asked. Both brothers said it was, so she and Nikki, now without helmet, left the room. There was a moment before Sam took advantage of the privacy.

"_Really_?" he asked Dean, still surprised. It made Dean chuckle slightly.

"Yeah. I think they know their stuff when it comes to ghosts. Besides, this one hasn't done anything dangerous yet."

"Yeah, _yet_. What if it gets scared and goes all bloody rage on them?"

"Then we'll be outside and come in guns blazing."

"Guns bla-! What if we hit one of the girls?" Sam's concern was canceled out by his continuing habit of referring to them as 'the girls.'

"It's only salt, it won't kill them," Dean said and thought for a moment, "although… there is Nikki with her medium thing. Hey, have you ever seen her touch salt?"

This thought led to Nikki waking up with a handful of salt the next time she went to sleep.

* * *

When pulling up to a building they'd soon BS their way into, Dean liked to drive up to it in what he called 'sneaky driving.' Basically it was slower and more dramatic than normal driving, but he felt it added a more important feel to the situation. Alex was not good at 'sneaky driving.' She pulled right up in front of the library, behind the cop car, making the car lurch as she stopped it.

"Hey easy on the brakes," Dean complained from the backseat. Alex ignored him. If she paid attention to all of his complaints on her driving, Sam would have inherited the Impala several towns ago. Afraid that they'd miss something sitting in the car, Sam had showed Alex how to use his video recorder. The result of this was that Alex had accidentally gotten it stuck in night vision mode and even Sam couldn't figure out how to get it back. This was well enough though, as it was night anyway.

"Okay, now if you find yourselves in trouble, just call us and we'll be right in," Sam told Alex and Nikki for the third time.

"Yeah, and get it on video so we can figure out how you messed up," Dean meant to say this as just a reminder, but unsurprisingly it made his sound like a bit of a jerk. Both sisters gave him a glare.

"Will you guys just relax and let us do this?" Alex asked as she and Nikki got out of the car.

"Alright, just be careful," Sam said because he was a nice guy. The sisters flipped the hazmat helmets up over their heads and gave Sam a salute before heading into the library. The cops at the door stopped them and the brothers watched as Alex showed them IDs and moved her arms about in a way where they knew she was explaining. Finally the cops let the sisters into the library and the Winchester brothers both let out a sigh and leaned back to wait.

* * *

Alex and Nikki had only been inside for about a minute before Dean suddenly sprang up and began digging through the bag behind the driver's seat. Sam noticed and turned around to see what his brother was doing.

"Hey, isn't that Nikki's stuff? What are you doing, Dean?" Sam asked, wondering if his brother had turned into some sort of thief. More of one, anyway. Dean didn't answer until he sat back up straight, holding a worn, black book.

"I was looking for this," he said smiling triumphantly.

"Her diary? Dean, that's just wrong. She's a friend," Sam chastised him.

"Not her diary, it's their log book. It's all the ghosts they've, um, killed?" Dean wasn't quite sure how to put it. Regardless, though, Sam thought for a moment before turning around in his seat and looking at the book curiously.

"Let me see it," he even reached out to take it.

"No, dude, it's private," Dean mocked, already flipping through a few pages. The book was practically filled. He had to admire the detail. There was the ghost's name, where they haunted, a few brief facts, what the sister's did to get rid of it, and the date they did so. It was mostly in one hand writing, what Dean assumed to be Nikki's, with the occasional entry or comment from Alex. Spread through out were symbols, some Dean knew and some he didn't, prayers, spells, and general notes like 'salt- keeps away bad spirits.' There were pictures too, of haunted buildings, gravestones, and the occasional ghost. The newspaper clippings made it remind Dean of his father's journal, only a bit more organized.

"So how long do you think they've been at this?" Sam asked, giving up getting a look himself and watching the library's entrance. Not that he was acting as look out so they wouldn't get caught looking through the sisters' things. Dean flipped to the first page of the book.

"First entry in this is September 9th, 1995," he said. Sam was a little impressed. It was only half as long as he and Dean, but longer than he would have thought.

"You're probably right, then."

"Of course I am… about what?" Dean asked. Sam rolled his eyes.

"About them knowing what they're doing. Have they always done only ghosts?" he asked. Dean flipped through again.

"Yeah, seems like. I can't imagine how they never encountered the other stuff, though. Don't it all kind of go together?" he asked and Sam shrugged.

"I think our kind of stuff you only find if you go looking for it."

"Well, now they know better. Thanks to us," Dean said a little proudly.

"Yeah, thanks to us…" Sam said with a bit of a sigh. His brother's eyebrows furrowed.

"Dude, don't say that."

"Say what? I just repeated what you said!" Sam took offense.

"Yeah but you said it sighy and guilty like, as if we sentenced them to a life of suffering or something!"

"Well, didn't we?" Sam asked honestly and there was silence in the car as both brothers thought. Sam did feel guilty about showing the sisters the deeper world of demons and monsters. He hadn't though about it before, but now that he did, he really, really did feel guilty. Ghosts were one thing, but he'd yet to see a ghost that ate its victim's corpse, or pulled off their flesh, or… a hundred other things. Ghosts were scary, demons were, horrific. Dean, on the other hand, now felt guilt about befriending the sisters in the first place. Seemed like anyone who was his friend ended up dead. Not even Alex deserved to die for knowing him… Oh well…

"Hey, did you know a penny in your pocket will help protect you from spells?" Dean read from the book.

"Really? I wonder why," neither brother was against changing the subject at uncomfortable times. Luckily, before a long conversation on the protective property of pennies happened, the sisters returned suspiciously early. They stormed past the cops and flipped their helmets off before getting to the car. Alex had a very unhappy look on her face.

"Uh oh," Dean said and Sam agreed. Nikki got in the car first and gave Dean a sort of apologetic look. Alex got in then and didn't look at anyone. She practically threw the video camera at Sam before she buckled herself in and started the car.

"How'd it go?" Dean asked because he was brave.

* * *

After getting back to the hotel room, Alex spent the next hour swearing in sign langue and Nikki tried unsuccessfully to calm her down. While neither had actually explained to the brothers what had happened, the end result seemed clear. The ghost had taken Alex's voice. Though Dean had sort of hoped that this would happen, he now wished it hadn't. Though it didn't seem possible, Quiet Alex was more frightening than Talking Alex. Her arms and hands waving about her as she frantically signed out her frustration, pacing back and forth, only Nikki dared to go near Alex. So, keeping their distance, the brothers hooked the video camera up to the TV so they could see for themselves what had happened.

The video started as Sam assumed it would. The screen showed the green night vision library floor and Alex's Alabaman accent asking the camera if it was on or not. The brothers waited a moment as Nikki came over and lifted the camera up and looked to see if it was indeed on. She signed something and Alex seemed to catch that it was recording. The brothers then watched Alex struggling with seeing through the viewer with the helmet on, trying to focus the lens on Nikki. The younger Charles sister decided to enjoy her time on screen and stuck her tongue out and made several other funny faces at the camera. Alex managed to tell her sister she was a dork before getting fed up with the hazmat helmet.

"_Oh screw it! There's no virus is here!_" she said. The camera then adjusted to Nikki's face and focused perfectly. Nikki presumably copied Alex and flipped her helmet back. They then continued through the library, Nikki walking ahead and always in shot. Alex mentioned how silly Sam was being, thinking she didn't know how to work this camera. The brothers gave a glance at each other and Nikki on the screen seemed wise enough not to reply to that comment. There was silence then for awhile, and the video only picked up the sound of the sisters walking, which included the plastic sound of the suits as well as the floor boards creaking. Nikki took out Dean's homemade EMF meter and turned it on. Apparently nothing happened, at all... There was a moment while Nikki looked at the meter intently. Finally she slapped the side of it with her hand and it started beeping loudly. The sisters kept on. Dean, watching them, turned to look over at current Nikki, still trying to calm her silent sister.

"Hey Nikki," he called and she looked at him, "don't hit my stuff!"

It took Nikki a moment to realize what he was talking about, but when she did she frowned and waved him off. Her sister's antics were getting on her nerves and she didn't really need Dean right now.

On the video, the EMF meter really started going, and the sisters followed it until it went as loud as it could. They stopped and Nikki turned the meter off, figuring the ghost was close enough. Flashlights and the video camera went around them in a circle, finding book shelves, card catalogs, tables and chairs, just like any other library.

"_You see anything_?" Alex asked. Nikki wasn't in shot but must have said she didn't as the camera continued to turn around the library.

"_Alright, so do you want to channel it or should we see it first_?" Alex asked. Again, Nikki was not in shot, but the answer came as Alex started calling out. The brothers glanced at each other, not sure how doing that seemed like a good idea. Though, Dean did approve of Alex calling the librarian 'Miss I'm-Dead-So-I-Think-I-Have-A-Right-To-Take-My-Weird-Sense-Of-Justice-Into-My-Own-Hands.' Alex quickly shut up and spun the camera around and it landed right on the ghost. The brothers leaned forward to get a better look at her. She was tall and thin, dressed like your stereotypical librarian complete with hair bun. She also looked like she smelled cauliflower cooking.

"_Who are you_?" Alex asked her in the tone every ghost hunter used when they felt contact had been made. It was calm, non-threatening, but still slightly commanding. All the ghost did was raise a finger to her lips to silence Alex. She then vanished. The camera stayed pointed at where she had been, but began to jostle around slightly. It then moved around sharply and quickly and Nikki came into shot. She took the camera from Alex's hands and set it down on a nearby table. There were a few more moments with only part of Nikki's hazmat suit in view before a hand reached down and turned the camera off.

The brothers leaned back to take all of it in for a moment. Sam looked over at the sisters in time to see Alex fly into the bathroom and slam the door behind her. Nikki stood in front of it for a moment, thinking about whether she should try to get in or not. She decided not and sighed, dropping her tired arms to her sides in defeat. She looked glumly at the brothers.

"You should have channeled the ghost," Dean told her. Sam shook his head in embarrassment at his brother's lack of tact. He would have hit Dean, but he thought Nikki might want to do that herself. She just raised her arms in the air in defeat and went over to slump into a chair, shaking her head. Sam looked at her seeming so down trodden and felt sort of sorry for Nikki. She was usually a rather happy person. Dean stood up and hobbled what at first Sam thought was over to Nikki, but what was really over to the cooler near Nikki. Dean opened it and pulled out a wet bottle of beer. He opened it, took a sip, and looked casually down at the younger Charles sister. His face seemed to show he disliked Nikki being upset as much as Sam did.

"So Alex," he started to say, "she seems to think losing her voice is the end of the world or something."

Nikki looked at him in a 'you got it' sort of way. Dean took another sip of his beer.

"Seems funny being mute should destroy her world when you deal with it every day," he said wisely. Nikki gave him a small smile, and so did Sam. Instead of hitting his brother, he now wanted to pat Dean on the shoulder. His brother had hit Nikki's frustration right on the head. Alex was losing her mind because her life became a little more like Nikki's. It was like some city kid moving to the country and complaining to the locals how horrible it was.

Sam rewound the video tape and paused it with the ghost clearly in view. Dean hobbled back over and sat beside him, looking at the ex-librarian and taking a sip of his beer. She was one of the scariest looking ghosts he'd ever seen that wasn't missing half their face or something.

"So, the best thing to do would be to find out who she is first. That could help us get rid of her," Sam suggested. Dean nodded and was about to say something when Alex emerged from the bathroom. The three people in the hotel room watched her as she walked over and sat in a chair away from any of them, still frowning.

"We'll have to do all our research on the net," Dean went on anyway.

"Wouldn't we have better luck going through old newspapers?" Sam asked confused. Dean gave him a look and it took Sam a rather long moment to figure out why. Then of course he figured it out and felt like an idiot.

"…The old newspapers that are probably in the library…" he added and Dean nodded. Feeling a little embarrassed, Sam stood and walked over to his laptop to begin the search. Nikki copied and opened the Charles sisters' computer and began to do the same.

"It's probably a safe bet that the way to defeat her is by yelling or something. Doing what she hates, you know?" Dean suggested. Alex was going to say something but remembered she couldn't and sat sulking some more.

"She'd probably take our voices before we could say enough, or said the right thing."

"The right thing? What, like, her name three times like in Beetle Juice?" Dean asked and Sam shrugged. Sam then got an instant message from Nikki who sat across the table from him. He glanced up at her smiling face before reading the message.

"What era of clothes do you think the ghost is wearing?" he vocalized her question for Dean.

"How should I know?" Dean, the great expert of female dressing style throughout the ages, said.

"Well, the plaque on front of the library said it was built in the 1940s, and her clothes didn't seem like 60s era or after, so we should just look in those 20 years," he said to Nikki and she nodded.

"Unless that place was built on an ancient librarian burial ground or something," Dean said and found himself very amusing. There was silence for a few minutes before Sam let out a chuckle because, though no one but Dean had known it, Dean's joke had been funny in an ironic sort of way.

"You're kind of right, actually," Sam told his brother, "I found her."

Everyone, even sulky Alex, got up and stood behind Sam to look at his computer screen. There was a small, black and white, bad quality picture of their ghost on it, next to the name Eloise Ward.

"This library was built on the same spot as the old library which was destroyed in a fire in 1941. Only one person was killed," Sam explained suggestively.

"Did this person happen to be a tight haired bitch?" Dean asked. Sam nodded, not that he would have put it quite that way. Nikki hurried over to her computer and sent Sam another web address. She got back to her sister's side by the time the page loaded for Sam.

"So the men rebuilding the library in '42 mysteriously all came down with laryngitis, huh?" Sam asked and Nikki nodded smiling, pleased that she could help.

"Damn she works fast," Dean commented. Alex again tried to say something but forget she couldn't. She signed something to her sister, which did neither brother any good until Nikki went back to her computer and instant messaged Sam again. She stayed there this time.

"So how do we get her?" Sam vocalized Alex's question. Alex decided to amend it and signed to Nikki again.

"And will defeating her get my voice back?" Sam read. The brothers didn't know how to reply to either.

"Any remains?" Dean asked changed the subject slightly. To a normal person, it would have been a confusing question, but Sam and the sisters knew what he meant.

"No, her body was completely destroyed in the fire. There's nothing to salt and burn," Sam said. Nikki messaged him.

"Officials say some wiring shorted out and burned the place down."

Alex signed and Nikki messaged.

"No, all of the books went with her too."

"Weren't there any on loan?" Dean asked surprised.

"Probably, but those records went up in the blaze too," Sam explained. That made sense.

"So are we just going to go there and make noise?" Dean asked and everyone else shrugged.

* * *

Alex was getting better at 'sneaky driving' as she pulled up in front of the library again, still right behind the cop car. Neither she nor her sister had dressed in the hazmat costumes, as per the command of the brothers. They weren't entirely sure why that was, and looked to the brothers for instructions upon turning the car off. Dean told Nikki to roll down her window and she did. He leaned forward and took a gun out of his pocket, looking intently at the two cops guarding the library's front door. It took Nikki a moment to connect things. When she did her entire face went into shock and she tried to push the gun in Dean's hand up to the sky. Alex noticed the gun and seemed to panic too, helping Nikki get the gun away.

"Will you two stop!" Dean asked pulling away from the silent sisters. Abandoning organized sign language, Alex just tried it make it clear they didn't approve of shooting the cops. Dean and Sam got the gist of it.

"I'm not going to shoot them!" Dean complained then looked at the gun, "well, not with bullets anything. Haven't you guys figured out we use tranquillizer darts occasionally?

Dean said that specifically looking at Nikki, whose face scrunched up in memory. Both sisters thought about if it was a fair, or even a nice, thing to do, and in that moment Dean leaned on the window frame and shot both of the cops. Mostly for surprising her, Nikki began to beat Dean with her hand. He tried to block her with his arm and put the tranquillizer gun away.

"Come on, let's go," Sam said opening his door and getting out. Dean copied gladly and the sisters followed once they calmed down. They did quietly insist on removing the darts from the cops' necks and laying the two men in a semi-comfortable position before going into the library, though.

* * *

The only non-verbal communication the brothers knew were military hand signals taught to them by their ex-Marine father. Stop, stay, get down, move, shut up, fire the M79 grenade launcher. Unfortunately neither Charles sister knew any of these and waltzed right into the library while the brothers were trying to be stealthy. There was no reason for them to be stealthy; they just wanted a chance to use the only sort of sign language they knew. It was much like young boys playing Army Man in the lilac bushes behind their house, and the sisters were right to ignore them.

When Alex and Nikki got to the location where Alex had lost her voice, they turned around and waited for the brothers to get there. The EMF meter in Dean's hand was going crazy when he got to the spot. He turned it off and put it in his pocket. Sam made a slashing motion across his neck, complete with closing his eyes and sticking out his tongue, and then pointed to the floor beneath them. It was funny to see him do, but everyone got the gist of what he meant. This could have been where Eloise Ward had died, more or less. Dean took out a small paper package from another pocket and tore it open. A teaspoon of salt fell on to the floorboards. A giant gust of wind suddenly blew around them in a whirlwind. Nikki's ponytail blew around behind her and Sam's forehead was actually visible as the wind blew his bangs to the side. A hardbound dictionary on a table near them flipped open and, when the wind died down, landed open with the word 'phantasm' at the top. It was an interesting but unimportant coincidence. What was not a coincidence was the translucent image of Eloise Ward standing between the four people, looking at the empty space between Dean and Sam. She just stared there, like a puppet or something.

Then Sam screamed.

And continued to scream.

Everyone turned to look at him, standing there, perfectly calmly, screaming as loud as he could. Nikki put her hands over her ears against it. The ghost's eyes turned to him quickly, not unlike a hawk when it sees prey. Dean watched her, and, seeing her neck tense, her nostrils flair to inhale unnecessary air, and her fingers fluidly mimicking a gunman about to draw a pistol, he wasn't sure if she was about to explode to go for Sam's throat. Rather anti-climactically, but, ultimately expected, all the ghost did as raise a single finger to her lips.

Sam was silent instantly.

He raised his hands to his throat, almost as if he expected it to be missing. Alex shrugged at the failure of that plan, Nikki felt very little, and Dean was glad he had beaten Sam at the 'who's going to scream' round of Rock-Paper-Scissors. Sam futilely tried to speak and found he really, really couldn't. There wasn't any pain or numbness in his throat, just silence. In the pit of his stomach was the makings of panic, but after years of training Sam suppressed it without noticing.

Everyone then turned their attention back to the ghost, who still stood there, her silence seeming to mock three of the people around her. They all noticed this as being somewhat important, as she had been gone in a flash after taking Alex's voice. Examining her feet, they could see her standing along one of the salted boards, a foot or so away from the salt itself. The foot was planted there firmly, stuck. Since they were all looking at her feet, no one noticed Dean reach his hand once again into a pocket of his jacket.

"Eloise Ward," he said simply. Everyone turned to Dean, including the ghost. Despite the two small words, said rather softly as Dean's voice is concerned, she still felt it necessary to raise her finger again. It was generally assumed the expected happened, that Dean's voice was gone, but there was never a way to tell for sure. He didn't even try to speak. All he did was raise his hand, revealing a small electronic device. He pressed a button.

"_Eloise Ward_," the device repeated for him. He hit the button again, "_Eloise Ward_."

The ghost seemed to turn to mist before their eyes. Soft and swirling, in the quiet library the murmuring of a hundred voices came from her foggy shape. The slowly humming visage began to fall and roll to the ground, falling down onto itself until the misty shape of the librarian's tight hair bun disappeared in the cracks of the floor boards.

"Take _that_!" Alex yelled triumphantly, pointing to the floor in an 'in your face' sort of gesture. Everyone smiled to hear her voice, which was a first.

"Third time's the charm, eh?" Dean asked proudly as Nikki gave her sister a congratulatory hug.

"I don't believe that," Sam said, his disbelief evident in his voice.

"I know right? Chalk one up for Tim Burton. The man knows his ghoulies," Dean was kind enough to spread the credit around. Of course Burton wasn't actually one of the writers of the movie _Beetle Juice_, but it didn't really matter.

"How'd you do that though, what was it you used?" Sam asked walking over to his brother. Dean tossed him the small device. Sam looked at it almost in shocked awe. It showed on his face so much the Charles sister were a little concerned.

"What is it?" Alex asked because Nikki was, of course, still mute. She had tried to speak just to see because, hey, you never know about these things.

"It's a _Yak Bak_!" Sam said in disbelief and held it up to prove it. Alex let out a bark of laughter and went over to take it from Sam.

"I used to have one of these!" she said and pressed the button.

"_Eloise Ward_," Dean's voice came out. Alex let out another bark of laughter and shook her head in disbelief. Nikki took it from her and pressed the button a few more times for fun. Dean stood by smiling proudly and Sam looked over at him with narrowed eyes.

"That's _my_ Yak Bak, isn't it? I've been looking for that thing for like, 15 years…" he said. Dean shrugged.

"I thought you would have given up by now."

"I loved that thing, I used it all the time! How could you just steal it from me?"

"Dude, you used it _all_ the time. You should be glad I didn't bash you over the head with it, seriously," Dean excused himself. Sam just scoffed and shook his head. Dean, not fazed in the slightest, called for the sisters to come on and the four left the library.

* * *

"_While there has been no official explanation for the returned voices of all the people afflicted, theories abound that it may have something to do with the mysterious sudden unconsciousness that overtook the policemen on duty guarding the library. In sports-_" Dean flipped the local news off and leaned back against the head board of his hotel bed.

"Dudes don't want to admit they got tranqed," he scoffed. It was early morning and the four of them were back in their hotel room, trying to get some sleep before heading out. The sisters accomplished this, scrunched up in their bed. Dean had tried watching TV, and found it hadn't help soothe him, but had the opposite effect. He looked down at Sam, who was supposed to be trying to sleep between the two beds, but in fact was sitting up and reading a book. Dean watched as Sam moved his hands about in front of his chest in a way that was becoming familiar to them.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked. Sam looked up at him rather innocently.

"I'm, well…" he didn't want to sound foolish, "I think it was silly, yesterday, only knowing what the girls were saying through instant message. And, well, if this happens again… I'd like us to be better prepared."

"I gave you back your Yak Bak," Dean defended himself. Sam shook his head.

"I don't mean that. I mean I'd like us not to have to rely on our voices to communicate," Sam held up the book he was looking at, "Nikki and Alex lent me one of their books on sign language. I think it'd be helpful to learn it, if only so we can understand them."

Dean thought for a moment and looked over at the sleeping women. Nikki was facing him, clutching her blanket like a teddy bear and smiling sweetly. He looked back at his brother and shrugged.

"Couldn't hurt," he said and moved himself down the bed so he could lie down without hitting his head. He laid on his right side, so his back was to Sam.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said. Dean only half grunted a 'what?' in response.

"How'd you know why Nikki felt bad, about how Alex was acting?" it had been bothering Sam all night. His brother wasn't an empathic sort and seemed to know more about quantum physics then he knew about the inner feelings of women. There was a long moment before Dean answered.

"I kinda understand it," he said. If it was supposed to answer all of Sam's questions, it failed miserably.

"Can I get you to elaborate on that?" was a very honest question from Sam. Another pause was expected. Dean wasn't the sort to jump into explaining his feelings.

"You spend a lot of time talking about white picket fences, you know? Get's on my nerves," was all he said. Surprisingly, it was all Sam needed. He supposed he did talk about that real life he wanted. How he'd rather have a house of his own, a day job, and a PTA meeting to go to. Everything that wasn't ghosts and demons and bumps in the night. Everything that wasn't _Dean's_ life.

Alex complained about having Nikki's life, and Sam complained about having Dean's.

Sam let out a sigh and turned a page in the book. The word at the top was 'sorry.' It was another interesting coincidence, albeit one of more importance.


	28. Revenge

_**Revenge**_

_

* * *

_

_The tragedy of old age is not that one is old, but that one is young. Oscar Wilde_

* * *

"Yeah, Mom, no, no really. Look, I really got to get back to work. Yes, I'm here now I'm on my brake. Your message said it was urgent, so I called. How was I supposed to know it wasn't urgent enough to call from work? You said it was urgent, so I- yes, yes Mom. Okay. Yeah, I'll call you later. Yes, when I'm off work. Okay. Good bye, Mom. No, really. Good bye," Ross Cohen let out a long sigh and ended the call on his cell phone. He looked down at it for a moment before just turning the phone off altogether and slipping it in the back pocket of his jeans. He rubbed his face with his hands and ran one hand through his short black hair.

It so wasn't his day.

Starting with his dry cleaner loosing his favorite shirt, his landlord bugging him about rent, then a traffic jam on the way to work, so the manager had to yell at him for being late, there was the customer yelling at him for not knowing the difference between snap peas and snow peas, of course Carrie still mad at him for getting more tips, and an urgent voicemail from his Mom. Apparently the tub in his childhood home had over flowed. He hadn't been there in three years but apparently it was important for him to know. And, among all of it, on the top of the list of wonderful things to happen to him today, Philip decided they just weren't right for one another. Ross couldn't tell if three months was a long relationship or not, and it's true it had never been a very serious relationship, but he felt he still had a right to be upset.

"Ross, your break is over, get back to work!" his manager's head poked around the corner just to yell at him before ducking back away again. Ross let out another sigh and reached his hand under his shirt collar. He meant to pull out only one of the necklaces he wore, but accidentally pulled out both so they laid visibly on his chest. He held up the one he wanted and looked at it. It was a simple pentagram but he looked at it like it was something much more.

"Help me with the rest of the day, will you? I could use it," he gave the pendant a smile and hid it back under his shirt, not noticing the other necklace on display.

* * *

"Are you guys sure we got time to stop for lunch? We could make Montana by sun down," Dean tried to convince his three companions as they all walked into a small diner. His ankle was close to being healed, but he still had to limp and wanted as few people to see him doing so as was possible. Especially cute waitresses, and places like this always had cute waitresses. 

"We've taken so much time getting there already I don't think lunch is going to make a big difference," Sam said holding the door open so Nikki could push at Dean's back to get him into the diner. The fact that she could move Dean an inch of proof he didn't actually mind, he just felt like making a fuss.

"So we go to a drive through, not get out of the car," Dean offered. Alex came in the open door then.

"Yeah, well, as the only one doing that driving, I say getting out of the car is a good idea," she made perfectly clear.

"Then let Nikki drive!" Dean told her as they all waited by the 'Please Wait to be Seated,' sign.

"She's doesn't have a license," Alex said simply. Her cell phone suddenly rang and she answered, stepping away from the group. The brothers began asking Nikki why she didn't have a driver's license when the short, plump hostess came up to them and ushered them to a booth. Sam and Nikki scooted in to the window and Dean took his seat by his brother. The hostess was good enough to set down four menus.

"Your server will be here in just a minute. Can I get you something to drink?" she asked. Sam began to order something then looked at Nikki, who wouldn't be able to order anything herself.

"Ah, we'll need a second," he told her instead. The woman smiled and was off.

"Dude, I wanted a beer," Dean complained. Sam looked at Nikki's smiling, innocent face again.

"You can wait and order when she and Alex can," he tried to explain. Dean looked at Nikki too and was silent in submission. Alex found them then and slid in next to her sister. Nikki signed something to her.

"That was Sally," Alex said in an important tone so the brothers looked at her as well, "she said we should be on the look out."

"For what?" Sam asked leaning forward nervously. Alex looked like she didn't know, which she didn't.

"Sally wasn't sure. She said she felt a disturbance heading right for us."

"Well what does that mean?" Dean said. He liked his psychics to be exact. Alex shrugged.

"Just something that… wasn't right," was all Alex could say, and it was evident she disliked the ambiguity as much as the brothers did. This was the moment Ross Cohen got off his break and walked up to their table.

"Hello, I'm Ross and I'll be your server. Can I get you something to drink?" he said trying to smile. Dean, just out of habit at this point, looked the waiter up and down, judgingly and not in a good mood himself. The only thing about the fellow man he really noticed, and what he focused on the most, was the one necklace Ross forgot to hide back under shirt.

Six small rings, each a different color of the rainbow.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Uh, yeah, _Dorothy_, can I get a bottle of beer," he said in his deep, simple, Dean voice. His companions and Ross looked at him in some shock.

"Dean," Sam scolded in a whisper. Alex went so far to kick Dean under the table, which did no help at all. She had kicked his ankle, making it really hurt. Dean's mood got worse.

"What?" he asked them and looked back at Ross, "just a plain old cold bottle of beer. Hold the _fruit_."

"I'll have a coke," Sam said before Dean could open his mouth again.

"I'll have a coke too, she'll have chocolate milk," Alex was on the same page. Ross nodded to them, gave Dean a quick glare, then left. Walking away from the table, Ross hid his Freedom Rings back under his shirt. He had never really understood why the waiters were asked to hide necklaces and such, now he did. Hiding the one necklace, he remembered the other, and smiled with the birth of an idea.

* * *

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sam demanded from his brother. Dean, by now, had begun to realize he'd been out of line, and avoided looking at anyone else at the table. Unfortunately, instead of humble and regretful, this made Dean seem arrogant and stubborn, which only upset his companions more. 

"Nothing," Dean would rather say then admitting he had made a mistake. He didn't even understand himself, sometimes.

"I knew you had the makings a real asshole in ya, Dean, and there's the proof," Alex shook her head and leaned back in her seat. This wasn't putting Dean in the mood to apologize.

"I just don't understand why you said that. Since when do you care about a stranger's sexuality?" Sam wanted to know. Honestly, Sam didn't know anything about Dean's ideas about homosexuality; it wasn't something they talked about so he never got a chance to know. He did figure, though, that if Dean had a problem with homosexuals, Sam would have heard about it at some point. He had assumed that silence meant it wasn't an issue at all, so this outburst surprised him.

"I _don't_ care," Dean said, still looking at the floor.

"Really? 'Cause what ya said to him, made ya sound like a big homophobe," Alex explained.

"I'm not-!" Dean's head snapped up to look at her, and he found Alex's judging face rather sharp to look at. He turned to Nikki, whose face made her look let down, or even, betrayed. He turned away from the table again, not brave enough to look at the all-critical face of Puppy Dog Sam.

"Whatever he does in privacy, I don't care," Dean told the spot on the floor. It was true, and he hoped it would serve as an apology. He didn't really have a reason to apologize to _them_, but they all felt like he did. Alex began to lay into him again when Ross returned with their drinks. Dean now turned his attention to the window, looking out at the parking lot. He certainly wasn't up to looking Ross in the face. The other three looked at Ross very apologetically as he set their drinks down. First the sisters' drinks, then Sam's, and finally, with quite a bit of dignity, he set Dean's open beer bottle and glass down.

"Here you go, Sir," he said simply. The other three all thanked him, even Nikki signed 'thank you,' but Dean was stubbornly silent. Sam and Alex then ordered food, Sam for himself and Alex for the two sisters. Dean it seemed wasn't hungry. Ross, smiling, left them again. Once he was gone Dean took his beer bottle and drank as much of it as quickly as he could without coming up for a breath. The others watched him until he planted the bottle back on the table. Alex was about to make another comment but her cell phone rang. She answered it, still glaring at Dean who was trying to ignore her.

"I don't think you deserve this," Sam told Dean, taking the beer bottle away from him.

"Hey!" Dean protested.

"What do you mean 'stop him'?" Alex asked the person on her phone. Sam took a sip of Dean's beer.

"There," he said to his brother.

"There nothing, I don't care about your spit, give it back!" Dean reached for it and Sam, even with his bandaged hands, was able to keep it from him. To further keep Dean from his beer Sam began just drinking it himself, Dean protesting and Nikki unsure if she should pay attention to the brothers or her sister's phone call.

"Stop him from drinking what?" Alex asked, her eyes moving over to watch Sam swallow the rest of the beer Dean didn't deserve. She was silent, which, for Alex, was a bad sign.

* * *

Alex was so adamant about them getting out of there she paid for their drinks herself. She said nothing about why or the phone call, not even to Nikki, but still managed to get her sister to help usher the brothers into the car as quickly as possible. They protested, but both Winchesters did want to get out of that particular diner. Dean in particular wanted to put it behind him. 

"So what's going on?" he asked Alex after the car was out of the parking lot. She didn't answer for a while.

"I'm upset with you Dean Winchester," was all she did say. It took Dean a moment to realize she would be giving him the silent treatment.

"Oh, great. Sam, isn't that the most mature thing you've ever heard?" Dean said and chuckled slightly. There was a long silence, followed by a longer one.

"Sam?" Dean said, still trying to smile, "Sam, dude? Oh come on! Not you too!"

There was more silence until Dean scoffed and scratched the back of his head in disbelief. He was having such a bad day, how did this day possibly get so bad? He looked over at Nikki.

"So are you not talking to me too?" he asked her. She smiled, shook her head, and signed something to him. He realized that Nikki talking to him was the same as Nikki giving him the silent treatment and sighed again. Luckily for him, though, the two people who were not talking to him, were talking to each other.

"So was that Sally on the phone?" Sam asked her.

"Yeah, she said that thing coming to us, hit," she looked nervously over at Sam, and would have at Dean, but didn't.

"I didn't feel anything," Sam said. Alex was sitting uncomfortably.

"She said you drank it…"

"The beer?" Sam and Dean said in unison. Nikki would have chimed in as well if she could.

"All Sally knew was that something was wrong with it, she said you weren't supposed to drink it, Sam. She sai-" Alex was explaining when she looked over at Sam and just yelled out in surprised. Dean and Nikki looked at Sam too and Dean yelled likewise. Naturally Sam looked in the mirror and yelled too. His brown hair had turned a bland gray.

"What the _hell_?" Sam asked, running his hand through his hair. Dean was laughing slightly until Nikki looked over at him and started tapping him furiously on the shoulder.

"What? What? Ow! _Ow_! Stop poking me!" he tried pushing her away. She began pointing at and his head instead. Sam and Alex noticed, but only Sam could take his eyes off the road to look in the back seat.

"Dean your hair is gray too," he said. Dean was silent until Nikki produced a hand held mirror. He looked anxiously and yelled out in shock.

"No! _No!_ This can't be happening! I'm too pretty to go gray!" he ran his hand through his hair in a panic. Then he began to squint to see in the mirror.

"Dean is your eyesight going?" Sam asked.

"I-I think so…" he said, still squinting.

"Me too, my eyes have gone fuzzy."

"What the he-he-" Dean was interrupted but a fit of coughing into his hand, "_hell_ is going on?"

"I think you may have picked on the wrong gay man, Dean," was the only thing Alex could say.

* * *

She got to the first motel she found, making sure to get a room on the ground floor. With the key in her pocket, Alex helped an increasingly weak Sam from the passenger seat. Alex was of a good height, but Sam was still so much taller than her that she couldn't properly support him. The same went for Nikki, who was just as much shorter than Alex as Dean was than Sam, and likewise had trouble helping him follow their siblings. The limp that had been in Dean's left leg was now in both. Alex unlocked the room as quickly as possible and the sisters set the brothers both down on a bed. 

"I'll go get the bags," Alex told her sister. Helping support Sam's horse-like weight had been tiring, but she felt some time to herself would be helpful, even if it was just getting the bags. Nikki nodded and tried to make the brothers comfortable. By now, their hair had gone from gray to white, their eyesight was considerably poor, and their joints all felt stiff and weak. They were also both loosing color in their skin. Nikki helped both brothers off with their jackets and boots, and then tired her arms considerably getting them both to lie down on the bed.

"I want another pillow!" Sam called out to her in a cranky, weak sort of way. Nikki nodded and went to find the closet. By now Alex came back with her and Nikki's bags and set them down by the mysterious one chair that came with the room.

"I'm thirsty!" Dean called out. Alex looked at him for a moment and left as soon as she could to get the brothers' bags. Nikki had pulled two spare pillows from the closet. She propped Sam up and placed one spare pillow under him, then walked over to Dean's bed to do the same.

"I want a pillow," Sam told her.

"You already have a pillow," Dean complained at him.

"Well I want another one."

"You can't have another one."

"What about that one?" Sam raised a weak, wrinkling hand at the pillow Nikki was placing behind Dean's shoulders.

"It's my pillow," Dean told him over Nikki's shoulder.

"Why do you get an extra pillow and I don't?" Sam wanted to know.

"You already got one!"

"I want another one!"

"Oh I'll give you another one!" Dean raised his liver spotted fist at his brother menacingly. Sam returned that with a menacingly pointed finger.

"Just you try!" he said and started sitting up to make his way to his brother.

"Oh you bet I'll try! I'll try you good!" Dean likewise tried to get up out of his bed. Luckily, Nikki was there to ease them both back into their beds. At this point she was physically stronger then them both and it was easy to do so.

"You're lucky she was here to hold me back!" Dean called to the other bed.

"No _you're_ lucky!" Sam retorted.

"No you're lucky!"

"No, you're lucky," the brothers continued on as such when Alex came back into the room. She set down the brothers' bags and looked glumly at her sister.

"How are they?" she asked. Nikki frowned.

"NO, _you're_ lucky!" Dean cleverly replied. Alex sighed and shook her head.

"About how old do you think they are?" she asked her sister.

"I'm younger than _you_, you old hag!" Dean called to Alex. She glared at him, but apparently Dean had gotten past the age where she could frighten him.

"Oh go collect your pension!" was her reply instead. He grumbled something at her but even he wasn't sure what. The sisters turned back to one another. Nikki signed something.

"Sally said it was the drink, which makes me gotta think it was that waiter. What was his name?" Alex asked. Nikki made four quick movements with her hand.

"Ross, right. Look, Nikki, if I go and try to find that guy and see if he can fix… _this_," she waved her hand at the brothers, "do ya think ya can handle the two of them?"

Nikki looked over at the two, now quite elderly, brothers. Dean was trying feebly to reach a near by tissue box while Sam whacked his hand at the pillows under his head. She suddenly felt very depressed, and looked at Alex to show her so. The elder Charles sister seemed to understand very well.

"Yeah I know, Nikki. But ya can't talk to Ross and someone needs to watch over the geriatrics," she apologized.

"We're not old!" Sam yelled.

"And now they've gone senile," Alex said. Nikki rubbed her eyes, hoping this would work like ruby slippers and take her far away.

"No _you're _lucky!" Dean said randomly.

* * *

So Alex drove back to the restaurant as fast as she could, not even taking the time to enjoy getting to drive the Impala without Dean nagging at her. Luckily the motel had been close and Alex got there just in time to see a couple leaving who had only been arriving when she had been pushing the Winchesters into the car. They were an elderly couple and Alex almost felt like hugging them and telling them how sorry she was for them. She didn't of course. This was Wyoming after all and Alex didn't feel like it was the safest place for a Black woman to go around hugging elderly White people. She hurried right in to the diner and looked around for Ross. The same plump hostess who had seated them before walked up to Alex with the same smile. She suddenly recognized Alex and Alex's complete ignoring of her, bobbing her head to look around the place. 

"Did you leave something?" the hostess asked, bringing Alex's attention to her.

"Ross, a waiter here. Where is he?" she asked her. Alex's voice, as the Winchesters knew all too well, was the sort of strong voice that carried. Ross, who had only been around the corner out of sight, heard his name easily and peeked around to see why an Alabaman woman wanted him. When Alex's eyes met his, he jumped and started to run. He knew perfectly well what he had done.

The hostess hopped out of the way in enough time for Alex to take off past her. Around the corner Alex couldn't see Ross anymore but the flapping of two doors lead her into the kitchen. Some cooks were yelling not far off and Alex ran over there, making the cooks all yell again. Ross had the benefit of home turf, but Alex was in slightly better shape, which said something about Ross' activity level. She took sight of him and was off around pots and pans and slipped slightly by a yellow plastic cone indicating the floor was wet.

"Get back here!" her voiced boomed around the noisy kitchen as she chased him. She was getting closer, thanks to other cooks and waiters getting in Ross' way but already separated by him so Alex could get through. By this point they all seemed rather amused to see Ross in a chase.

* * *

Sam had fallen asleep so Nikki got the spare blanket out of the closet and spread it out over him. Old people were always getting cold; she didn't want Sam to get cold. Pulling the blanket as far up his chest as she could without leaving his feet uncovered, Nikki looked at his old, wrinkled face and frowned with worry. His breathing was soft and slow, and his eye lids pressed against each other as if he was having a bad dream. She brushed some of the long white strands of hair off his forehead. The youthful haircut looked so out of place on him now. She continued to tuck the blanket in all the way around him, noticing how thin his legs had gotten and how boney his feet felt through his socks. When she felt the cool, calmly feel of one of his hands she took a step away from his bed. It had always bothered her that not everything could be solved with a hug. How much easier would life be? 

She looked up from Sam as Dean knocked something over on the night stand trying to sit up. Nikki grabbed the other spare blanket and walked over to his bed. She placed her hand on the very hollow feeling of his back to help him sit up, adjusted the pillows slightly and added the blanket on top of them so he only leaned back a few inches when she let go of him. She smiled down at him in a bit of triumph but Dean was too much of a curmudgeon to care. So Nikki let her smile fall, knowing she'd be wasting it on him. At this point in her life Nikki mostly smiled because it made people feel better to see her doing so.

"I want to watch the television," Dean told her. Nikki began to sign something about him not being able to see it and the noise waking his brother, but Dean looked at her moving hands angrily. Eventually his own boney hand came out and slapped her hands down.

"Oh, stop that. There's no bother in you waving your hands at me, it don't mean nothing," he told her. She supposed he had a point, even if he was being rude about it. She did notice he didn't look at her in the eyes when he said it, though. Nikki didn't think it was just because his eyes were going, either. Under the curmudgeon expression which seemed glued on his elderly face, Nikki could also see that hidden pained expression all old people seemed to have. Normally, the look is brought on by decades and decades of life, but Dean had less than half as many memories he would need for that look. She figured, or she wanted to figure because Nikki was the type to expect people to be good, that Dean felt sorry for what he had done. Sorry to that waiter, and sorry for Sam. Nikki had only known Dean for a short time, but she knew he wasn't the type to feel sorry for himself.

Nikki leaned down and kissed Dean on the top of his white, thinning head.

If he wasn't going to feel sorry for himself, Nikki would. Even if he was being a major ass today. He looked up at her a little but seemed to ignore the action for the most part. He was about to ask if she was going to turn the TV on or wasn't she, when Sam woke with a start. He looked around as if to remember where he was, and then turned to the fuzzy figure of Nikki.

"I need to go to the bathroom," he told her. If Nikki cold swear, she would have.

* * *

Finally Ross lost Alex around one corner and she stopped, breathing heavily as she looked around for him. If he was smart enough to head out for his car, she should go to the parking lot. Maybe there was a closet or something they had passed he had gone into. Maybe there was… Alex's eyes fell on a door close to her. 'Men's Room.' She grinned and shook her head. If he thought that was going to keep her out he deserved to get caught. Of course, he deserved to get caught anyway. 

Alex barged in and heard one of the doors on the three small stalls slam shut and lock. She marched over to it, still breathing heavily, making her sound rather terrifying to the man on the inside of the stall.

"Ya think highly of your employers if you think they'd get ya locks that can hold out a Mobile girl," was the first mention of her hometown she'd made in awhile. Ross was silent from where he was standing on the toilet seat.

"Open up!" Alex yelled at him. This sounded so absurdly like his mother that Ross did so. Looking him over, Alex noticed he was clutching one of his necklaces. It was a pentacle. The anger on her face turned to curiosity as she looked at that.

"I thought Wiccans didn't do real magic," she said. Ross realized he'd been rubbing the symbol and dropped it back onto his chest. He realized how silly he looked and stepped down from the toilet seat, trying to look as dignified as he could.

"Depends on which ones you ask," he told her. Actually, Ross had always lumped Wiccans into two groups. Those who did magic, and those who couldn't do magic so told people no one did. Alex sighed and tried to collect herself. How do you chase someone into a bathroom stall and then ask them for a favor? Of all odd things, Alex knew Dean could, and wished for a moment that he was here. Something about a kind word and a gun than just a kind word alone.

"Well if you can do magic you can undo it," she told him. Ross brought his chin up, still trying to have some dignity here.

"No. He deserved it. Now he knows how it feels to be an underappreciated, mocked, degraded member of society. I hope he wets himself," Ross had a good point up until the last bit. Alex had to sigh again a little in defeat, knowing that Dean did sort of deserve it.

"Yeah, well, Dean maybe, but not Sam," then she remembered what Sally had said, that Sam drinking it was a mistake. She looked at Ross in the eyes, "his brother drank it too."

This took Ross aback, and he lost a lot of the dignified feeling he had been going for. The jerk's brother? Was it that cute guy with the bangs? Ross hadn't meant for anything to happen to him, that guy had tried to be nice. He looked at Alex apologetically.

"It wasn't meant for any brother. I just wanted that guy, Dean, to get some of his medicine, you know?" Ross asked. Alex nodded, because she did know, she really did.

"But Sam doesn't, so can you undo it?" she asked. Ross frowned but nodded, not looking at her.

"Can I just change the brother back, though?" he asked and Alex let out a bark of laughter.

"Naw, wouldn't work. You'd have Sam back and his puppy eyes could get ya to do anything. Now come on, I'll take ya to them," Alex offered out her hand to him. Ross looked at it a little skeptically, remembering she had just chased him through the kitchen. He sighed and took it.

* * *

Alex called Nikki from the car to tell her she had Ross. Before Nikki could do a victory dance, though, Alex told her they had to do some shopping first. Apparently everything Ross had needed to turn them old had been in the diner's kitchen, but they had to go out for the things to turn them back. Alex told her sister to just hang tight, they would be as quick as they could. Nikki sighed angrily into the phone before hanging up. Sam was asleep again, after going to the bathroom with Nikki's help, nothing she ever wanted to think about again, and Dean was still sitting up squinting at the TV. 

"No you're lucky!" he shouted at the screen. Why did he keep saying that?

* * *

Half an hour later Alex and Ross showed up at the motel room. Ross was already shaking several things together in a plastic water bottle. Nikki gave her sister a big hug as they entered and Dean, noticing Ross, ignored them all. Sam was still sleeping. After hugging Alex, Nikki turned to Ross. He expected her to be a ferocious as her sister, and was very surprised when she hugged him too. She knew she should be mad at him for what he did to the guys, but she was just too glad it would be over soon. 

"He's still got some stuff to mix together, but it should be read for the guys to drink soon. Right?" Alex turned to Ross who nodded. He walked over to a table, avoiding looking at the brothers, and set a plastic bag of things on it. He fished through it and continued adding stuff to the plastic water bottle. Alex took her sister by the shoulder and turned to her excitedly.

"So apparently witches can do stuff like potions and magic and things. No wands or brooms though, right?" she turned to Ross who nodded.

"I knew someone who tried to put a spell on a broom to make it fly, once, but apparently the Goddess doesn't care if you fly or not," he shrugged remembering how long that friend had been in a cast finding that one out.

"Yeah, they just call on the Goddess or the God to help them out, using special spells and symbols to call them," Alex further explained what she'd learned over the past half an hour. They had met witches before, but none of them had actually done things like this.

"Something like that, though I'm not really a God man myself, I pray to the Goddess mostly," Ross said, cutting a fresh lemon and adding a few drops into the bottle.

"It's like a lot of that stuff we have in ou- Oh my god! Is Sam dead?" Alex cried out, spotting his sleeping figure in the bed finally. Ross looked up quickly, praying to the Goddess he hadn't killed someone. Nikki shook her head, thankfully, and signed to Alex he was just sleeping. Alex relayed that to Ross before Nikki continued. Apparently, when Sam had first fallen asleep, Nikki had thought he was dead too and gone into a tremendous panic. She had finally shaken him awake just to make sure. He called her a 'silly loon' and went back to sleep.

"Well, wake him up," Ross said walking over to the sisters, shaking the bottle in his hands so all the ingredients were mixed. Nikki was off like a shot to Sam's bed and began shaking him. Sam might be tall but he was still an old man and flopped about on the bed as she shook. Ross, bravely enough, walked over to the sitting up Dean and held the open water bottle out to him, the ingredients still swirling around in the water. Dean looked questionably down at it, than up at Ross' blurry face. The look in Dean's pale, sunken old eyes made Ross feel so guilty.

"How do I know that ain't poison?" Dean accused him.

"Just _drink it_!" Alex scolded from behind Ross, but both men ignored her.

"Because if it was, Alex would kill me too," Ross explained. There was a heartfelt 'Amen' from Alex behind them. Dean, satisfied with how threatening Alex was, took the water bottle in his shaky hand. It almost slipped through and Ross put his hand on the bottom of it. Like that, with Ross holding most the weight and Dean maneuvering it into his mouth, Dean got down a few mouthfuls. Ross smiled and took the bottle away, looking at Dean. By now Sam was awake and propped up reasonably enough. Nikki reached across Dean for the bottle and Ross handed it to her, still looking at Dean.

"I'm sorry," he said simply as Nikki helped Sam drink. Dean cleared his throat and looked away from Ross, obviously humbled. Alex didn't think he was humbled nearly enough.

"See, Dean," she said walking over to Ross and putting an arm over his shoulders, "that's why, no matter his sexuality, this guy is a _man_."

Dean glanced up at her briefly and then down at his feet again. His eyes were getting better and he had clearly seen the judging look in her eyes.

"Yeah, well," he scratched the back of his hair, feeling his body growing stronger, "I guess I'm sorry too. I was just not in a good mood, and I guess I shouldn't have," he looked over at Sam and Nikki, who was looking at him the same way her sister was, "I shouldn't have said what I did. Whatever you do with your life is fine by me."

He looked up at Ross now who was smiling down at him. Alex patted Ross on the shoulder.

"You just got an apology from Dean Winchester, Ross. Nikki hasn't even gotten one of those and he _shot_ her," Alex explained. Ross laughed and Dean scowled, his skin firming up and growing in color.

"The first time doesn't count!" Dean defended himself. Sam cleared his throat from the other bed. He was leaning over on one arm, Nikki helping him stay there. She had been helping him since he needed to drink, but her assistance probably wasn't needed anymore, as he was just a minute behind Dean in growing back to normal. He had only cleared his throat because he needed to, and not to gain attention, but he had, and noticed it.

"Um, he shot her," was all he could think to say. This caused Dean and Alex to get into a fight about whether Dean should apologize for it or not.

* * *

Alex drove Ross back to work where the Goddess was finally helping him out. Not only didn't he get fired, all of his coworkers were worried about him. Even Carrie had been too concerned to be mad anymore. Alex took a moment at the diner to buy a chocolate cake before coming back to the motel. Once inside, before presenting the cake to everyone, she noticed Dean sitting on his bed watching TV, Sam at his computer typing, and Nikki asleep on what had been Sam's bed. She smiled at her sister and set the cake down softly. The brothers noticed her looking at Nikki's sleeping form. 

"She fell asleep just after you left. I guess we tired her out," Sam told her with a sheepish grin.

"_We_? You're the one who made her carry you to the bathroom. God knows what happened after that door was closed, too," Dean told him and nodded suggestively at Alex.

"_What_! Bathroom? _Sam_?" she turned on the younger brother, her eyes wide and frightening to look at. Sam felt like a baby zebra facing a veteran lion, and tried to make himself seem small and invisible. She charged over to him, yelling her head off, causing Sam to flat out cower. Dean looked at them and chuckled slightly to himself. To his side he heard Nikki shift in her sleep, causing the blanket to fall off her shoulder. Dean paused for a moment before standing up and moving the blanket back up where it had been. He then went over to investigate the chocolate cake as Alex put the fear of God in his brother.


	29. The Beast: part 6

_**The Beast: part 6**_

* * *

Mud always got everywhere. Whenever he had to buy new boots, not only by their fit, their price, or how well they were made, Samuel also had to judge how easy they were to clean. The less time as he had to spend crouched by the creek, his socks getting dirty underneath him, washing his boots off, the better. Mud and pine needles, too, prickling him and getting under his fingernails. He had to wash his hands after washing his boots.

"What are you doing?" he brother called from behind him, checking over a rifle.

"Cleaning my boots," Samuel replied.

"Why?" Daniel really seemed confused, and Samuel just sighed and shook his head. His brother was not a man who cared if things were cleaned. If it wasn't for the women, Daniel's beard would be mostly crumbs at this point.

"Ack!" Samuel cried out softly as a small fish swam into his boot. Frowning, he dumped his boot upside down and the fish and some muddy water went back into the creek. He shook water droplets off and… Samuel looked up suddenly, having a growing feeling on the back of his neck that he had learned to trust. His eyes searched the forest on the other side of the creek. There was _something_, something out there. Even without the feeling on the back of his neck, everyone knows the feeling of being watched.

"D-" Samuel began to call his brother but the feeling was suddenly gone. Faster than it had come it had vanished. It didn't serve to make Samuel feel any better, though. The idea that something was watching him, something that could come and go so quickly? It had been powerful, he could feel that. He was going to have to be very careful.

* * *

Dean awoke with a start as the Impala jerked to the side and Alex yelled expletives out the window. He opened his eyes just to see a red sedan drive away ahead of them. It was a sign of how sleepy he was that he didn't even question the sedan was to blame and not Alex, despite her driving record. He shifted his muscles slightly and looked over at Nikki, being the only other face in the car he could really see. He was so tired of looking at the back of his brother's head. There was something different looking about Nikki this time, though, and it took Dean a sleepy moment to realize what. His foot was missing from her lap. He looked down at his leg, and sure enough it was just sitting on the car floor by his other. He lifted it up and rotated his ankle clockwise, than counterclockwise. Dean let out a bark of laughter, causing all three people to look at him. This included the driver Alex, which is one of the reasons for her driving record.

"What?" Sam asked Dean, surprised to see him awake.

"My ankle doesn't hurt!" he said triumphantly, he even leaned back and propped the ankle on the seat in front of him so all could see him rotate it painlessly. Sam and Nikki smiled along with him, and Alex turned glumly back to the road.

"I knew it was too good to last," she grumbled but everyone heard her perfectly well anyway. Dean, though, took it that she enjoyed him being crippled because she liked to see him in pain, not because she liked driving his car.

"Gee thanks," he was very sarcastic.

"Do you think it's okay to hold your weight?" Sam asked him. Dean shrugged but nodded.

"Sure, I've been mostly walking on it the last day or so anyway," he said. Nikki tore a page off the notebook she carried in her pocket and handed it to Dean. He read it.

"I did, didn't I?" he asked her and Nikki nodded.

"Did what?" Sam asked.

"I twisted my ankle the day we started for Sally's," Dean told him. That had been more or less a week ago, at least enough time for Dean's ankle to heal. It had taken them a week to get from Nebraska to Montana.

"Damn we took our time," Alex voiced what the others were thinking. Nikki snatched the paper in Dean's hands back, turned it over and wrote on the back in pencil. She handed it to him again.

"'Not that she was expecting us sooner,'" he read and nodded at the point.

"Still, though. What were we doing that took us so long?" Sam asked. He meant it to be rhetorical.

"Witches," Dean answered.

"Ghosts," Alex said.

Nikki signed an addition, which included her holding seven fingers up a few times.

Sam sighed, how did this ever become his life?

* * *

Sally lived on County Road 27, which, considering all of the other roads were likewise named and numbered, should have been easy to find once you got into the general area. It was not so. All four passengers watched the sign for County Road 26 flash by them, and then stared in confusion as Alex pulled the car to a stop at the crossroads with County Road 28. All four would swear on their lives they hadn't seen a road between the two.

"Maybe we drove through a skip in time and space or something and missed it," Alex offered as a theory. Of course it was a wild and impossible theory, but it wouldn't have surprised any of them. She ended up calling Sally, starting the conversation by asking if Sally happened to live in the Twilight Zone. Alex listened, nodded, 'Yeah'd and finally turned the car on to County Road 28. A few miles later they arrived at County Road 27, which had been running parallel to the road they had been on originally. The setting sun met them head on.

"Yeah, we're okay. East onto 27, got it," Alex said into the phone.

"Uh, Alex, we're heading west," Sam pointed to the setting sun as proof. The car squealed and Dean swore at her as Alex did a quick u-turn and had the sun at their backs.

"No, we're fine. Be there soon," Alex said and hung up.

"Oh you're _never_ driving this car again!" Dean yelled at her from the backseat. Alex's face scrunched up in anger and she muttered something to herself but Dean's 'wrinkly old ass,' but no one heard anything much.

* * *

Pulling into the gravel driveway, the Impala was ushered up to the house by a pack of dogs. It was an odd pack, about half a dozen of dogs, big and small, all colors, different breeds, and occasionally missing a limb or ear or eye. Alex slowed the car to a drawl so not to add to these injuries. This was slow enough so a terrier with one eye could continue to leap excitedly up at Dean's window, barking and slobbering all over the glass. He leaned away from the window into Nikki's shoulder, where she was leaning away from hers. Dean looked out through her window and saw, instead of a dog, a horse on the other side of the fence that ran along the side of the driveway. The horse was moving along, keeping pace with the car, and seemed, quite obviously, to be looking straight at Nikki, watching her. At long last Alex pulled the car to a stop by the front door of Sally's home. The house itself was a two story, ranch/cabin looking thing that was surprisingly large in size. A person couldn't walk far from the house in any direction without hitting a fence, and as they had seen from farther down the driveway, there was a large brown barn behind the house.

The Winchesters and Charles' all remained in the car, even after Alex had turned the engine off. The pack of dogs continued to happily run around them, jumping and barking to see who was inside the new car. Nikki's horse had run out of fence space and had now been replaced by a Great Dane looking dog, who kept licking her window so often Nikki began to wonder if the dog wasn't just one giant tongue. Thankfully, the front door opened and someone came out. The pack of dogs where on the porch in the blink of an eye, suddenly silent and adoring. Alex and Nikki smiled and the brothers stared at the woman in some surprise.

It was Sally Blackfoot, certainly, the woman from the photograph. Her black hair was tied behind her, and her brown eyes were looking at the car under thicker eyebrows than were necessary. Her skin was darkish and her features were strong and powerful looking. Over all, she was an attractive woman, even Sam would call her so. Dean thought all women were beautiful, but that was mostly because of his exaggerated sex drive, and not some deeper understanding. But none of these things were why the brothers stared at her. It was a credit to the Charles sisters that they hadn't thought Sally being in a wheelchair was important enough to mention.

With the dogs away, Alex and Nikki burst from the car, ran around it, and up onto the porch to Sally. Alex shook her hand happily and Nikki leaned over to give her hug. They were all laughing already by the time the brothers walked up the ramp to the porch and stood awkwardly waiting to be introduced. That terrier who had been jumping on Dean's window walked over and sat calmly by his newly painless ankle, looking up the almost six feet at him. Dean tried to act like the dog wasn't there. When Nikki stood up after a second hug, Sally looked at the brothers and smiled confidently. Indeed, even without words the woman seemed to be the very confident type, so much she didn't have to prove it like Dean, or even Alex, did. She'd eyed the brothers up and down for a moment, in a way that reminded Sam of the first time he'd met Jessica's parents. When her eyes met Dean's they looked shocked for a moment, but it was quick enough so that only Dean noticed it.

"Well then, these must be them. Well come in, dinner will be served soon," Sally told them all. She wheeled herself in the circle, the dogs moving out of the way like it was a habit, and the procession of them entered the house, Nikki closing the door behind them.

* * *

The inside of the house was large and grand, but is a homey way. It was all wooden, and the main decorating motif seemed to be rugs. Smooth, simple rugs were on the floor and Sally's wheelchair rolled over them easily. Larger, more elaborate rugs that were obviously never met for the floor hung from the walls. The main room had high ceilings, as on one side of the room where stairs leading up to a balcony that seemed apart of the second floor hallways. The ceiling went up high enough for both floors. Sam, being as intelligent as he was, wondered if one of the reasons there were so many rugs was to absorb all the sound that would bounce around the room. The floor rugs seemed to help cut down on the sound of the dogs' nails on the floor. That was another thing. Not only on the rugs, but on the furniture of the living room area to the right of the front door, there seemed to be an incredible about of animal hair collecting on things. As Sally led them across the giant first room, Sam looked up at the balcony and saw one of the reasons why there was so much hair. The railing for the balcony was much like the fences outside, and all along the bottom of it, laying there with an occasional paw hanging over the side, were a collection of cats. They all seemed to be made of as few parts as the dogs were, some missing a leg or eye or what not. A few were on the stairs, as well.

And they were all watching Sam, judging him in the way cats do.

He was glad when Sally led them, dogs and all, out of that room and away from the superior eyes. The room she led them into was the dinning room, with a long table that looked like it sat about ten. The chair on one end of the table was moved aside and Sally wheeled herself into the spot.

"Sit down, please," she smiled and they all did. Alex and Nikki sat to her right, and the brothers to her left. Sam sat closer to Sally than Dean did, and Dean did this knowing himself well enough to realize if he had to sit with his legs by Sally's he was going to say something rude about the wheelchair. Sam didn't mind, but his long legs did bump up against Sally's. She didn't notice at all, and Sam felt worse about it than if she had.

"So…" Dean tried to start a conversation. Sam would have backed him up in it but a short, round, pink woman entered from another door, carrying a large tray. She smiled at everyone and set the tray on the table between them all. There were five plates on it, all containing the favorite meal of the person it was closest to.

"I love it when you do that," Alex told Sally grinning.

"I'll be right back with the drinks," the woman said.

"Thank you, Rose," Sally said. The woman walked out and everyone copied what Alex had already done, that is taking their plate off the tray and setting it in the placemat in front of them. Now, an ordinary sort of psychic could easily know what their favorite foods would be, but it was the exceptional kind, the kind Sally apparently was, that would know where they would all sit to arrange the tray properly. The same was with the drinks when Rose brought those out and walked around the table to set the right drink in front of the right person. Nikki had the largest, coldest looking glass of chocolate milk Dean had ever seen.

"You do this for all your guests?" Dean asked once Rose was out of the room again.

"Only the ones who wouldn't be too freaked out by it," Sally grinned and took a sip of her ginger ale.

"I dunno, this is pretty freaky even for me," Dean said.

"Oh shut up and eat your hamburger," Alex snapped at him. Dean did so happily. It was even as rare as he liked.

"Sorry it took us so long to get here," was really the only non-wheelchair, non-psychic related thing Sam could think of to say.

"Couldn't be helped," she waved it off, "and you boys can ask about the wheels if you want."

They both looked at her instantly.

"Alright, how'd you get it? I can't see you getting into an accident," Dean said, putting on as much of a diplomatic attitude as he could. It made him look like the chicken hawk from those Looney Tunes cartoons.

"Were you born with it?" Sam asked her in addition. Dean looked at his brother, who was facing Sally. He knew Sally hadn't been born that way. He'd had a dream, he'd seen her walk. Dean's eyes went to Sally then, and found hers looking at him with meaning, and knowing. Dean panicked and looked away from her. Damn psychics.

"I fell off a horse, some six years ago," Sally put a smile on her face again and answered.

"Didn't you see it coming?" Sam asked, Dean still with his eyes on his plate. Sally nodded.

"Oh yes, I'd known it for years."

"Why didn't you stop it? Why'd you get on that horse?" Sam was very intent on asking this, and Sally was the only one who knew enough and was thinking enough to know why. He had seen what happened to Jessica before it happened, and he hadn't done a thing to stop it. He had been stupid, it had been a mistake, but Sally was someone who should have known better.

And she did.

Sally leaned forward onto the table slightly, breaking the rule about elbows on the table. She looked at Sam in the eyes, a strong, meaningful look with all the confidence and experience she had.

"Because the future isn't meant to be changed, Sam. It's written as permanently as the past. All we can do is prepare for it the best we can," she told him. The table was silent for a moment as everyone took this in.

"What'd you do to prepare?" Dean seemed to ask his hamburger. Sally leaned back in her wheelchair.

"I had an ambulance on hand, ramps installed. I had even gone and bought myself a wheelchair," she explained.

"And an elevator," Alex said, pointing in the general direction of it, "we knew her before the accident and asked her why the elevator."

"What did I say?" Sally asked her.

"'Preparation for the future,' or something mysterious like that. We didn't understand until we heard about your fall," Alex said.

"You mean you've been here before and you still couldn't find the place?" Dean asked Alex accusingly. She went on the defensive, the way she always did when her and Dean spoke.

"It was seven years ago!" she said. Dean was about to retort but Sally cut him off.

"Nikki's right, let's not quarrel at the table," she said. Everyone looked at Nikki, who hadn't even signed something.

"She didn't say so, but she's right. You all came to discuss photographs," she said. Sam nodded and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. It was a good decision to keep them in a safe, close, relatively hidden place. He pulled the three photographs out of it and set them by Sally's napkin. Naturally, she looked at the one of herself first. Her eyes went over the image before she frowned.

"What?" Alex asked worriedly, expecting she'd gotten some unpleasant psychic feeling.

"I know I've always photographed horribly, but I didn't think it went back lifetimes!" she said and shook her head. The other four let out an aggravated sigh, and Alex would have kicked her under the table if it would have done anything.

"Anything _important_?" Alex clarified. Sally looked at it for a moment longer before shaking her head and setting it down.

"No. It's just a picture taken for some silly white man's study. 'Savages' indeed," said an incredibly non-savage woman. The next picture she picked up was of what some could justifiably call a savage woman. It was the picture of Alex, or rather, Abigail. Sally looked at it closely, and the other four watched her much the same. Dean would have gone on watching her, but everything went black.

* * *

There was a loud flashing sound and an energetic male voice. Dean opened his eyes and watched a man step out from underneath some sort of black cloth. At first that was all Dean could see, but gradually the area around him came more and more into focus, and he could hear the relieved chattering of a group of people, men and women. One voice he knew instantly as Sam's, another was what Dean heard himself sound like on answering machines or video tape. A third voice was Bobbi's, and another was one he had only heard once but for some reason could still identify. It was Jessica's, and she sounded happy. Dean looked away from what he could now see was a camera man to the group of four people. They were all wearing old fashioned clothes, hair lengths were different, and one had a beard. There were Daniel and Samuel Winchester, standing with their wives in front of a familiar plant and painting. They were talking to each other about how long it had taken for that picture.

"I had a feeling you'd be here," Sally's voice said from Dean's shoulder. He looked over to see her standing by him, watching the four people as he was.

"What's going on?" he asked her, too confused and out of place to put any strength in his voice.

"The past, when those photographs were taken," she somewhat stated the obvious but Dean needed to hear it.

"And you're standing?" Dean decided was the weirdest part of this. She gave a sly look up at him.

"This is a vision, I can stand if I want to," she explained.

"A vision?"

"Yup. I came back here to see what there was. It's not a guarded vision, though, I left it open to anyone who could join me," she looked at him again, simpler this time, "and here you are."

"I-I don't understand," Dean rubbed his forehead, trying to put things together. He wasn't good at putting things together, he never had been. Sam was, why wasn't Sam here?

"I don't imagine you would understand. I'll explain it to you, only later. Now we should see what we came to see," Sally instructed and looked back at the group. The Mrs.'s Winchester were standing off to the side, while their husbands energetically pushed and pulled someone in front of the camera. It was Abigail, and damn if it wasn't Alex through and through. Even her protests were in Alex's Alabaman accent.

"No, ya don't got to do this!" she said.

"Don't you want a photograph of yourself?" Daniel asked her.

"No! I wouldn't mind one of her," Abigail stopped protesting just to point to someone away from them. Dean looked and saw Nikki, dressed like her sister with her hair likewise pulled back. She just smiled and shrugged at Abigail.

"Nikki's here too," Dean stated the obvious.

"Of course. Did you think she and Alex could be apart even in past lives?" Sally asked him and Dean supposed not.

"There, see, it's you who must be photographed," Samuel told Abigail. She sighed in aggravation as they placed her right in front of camera's lens. The photographer looked at her in a chastising sort of way.

"Your masters are willing to spend the money to remember you, ain't many Negros so lucky, you ought to be thanking them," he told her seriously. Abigail was obviously humbled by this, and fell quiet and still, her eyes fixed on the floor. The brothers fell silent too. Samuel gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and they joined their wives out of the camera's view.

Dean felt like punching the photographer until he cried or passed out, whichever came last.

* * *

He smelled his hamburger again, and looked down to see it was on the table in front of him. Dean looked around to find his brother by his side, Nikki across the table from him, and everyone and thing where they should be. Sally was frowning at this photograph too.

"_What_?" Alex desperately wanted to know. Sally sighed and looked over at her.

"You're not going to like it," she said. Dean grabbed his still cool beer bottle and drunk as much of it as was possible. Everyone was too concerned about what Sally had seen to notice him and any subtle panicking he might be doing.

"Just tell me!" Alex demanded, looking like she might take Sally by the shirt and shake her.

"Well, it's nothing bad, well… it's bad, but not as bad as you're probably thinking. Samuel and Daniel Winchester paid for this photograph of Abigail, you all knew each other," Sally addressed the table now, not just Alex, "all of you, and Ruth and Joanna. Yes, Nikki, even you."

"Okay, so we were friends in our past life, how is that bad?" Alex asked tentatively. Sally took a sigh, trying to figure out how to say bad news in a good way.

"Well, while you all looked friendly with each other, I don't think anyone back then would have called you friends."

"Why not?" Sam asked. Dean finished his beer and began to drink Sam's while his brother's back was turned.

"Because, the Winchesters were all white, and you two," she looked at Alex and Nikki, "were _black_. And, it was the 1850s…"

There was a long moment where the only sound was Dean drinking.

"Oh no…" Sam practically sighed. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his face in his hands. Alex caught on then. She didn't say anything, which was worse. She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up, taking several steps over to the wall away from them. All they could see of her was her back as she tried to collect things. Dean looked at Nikki then, waiting to see her reaction. It took Nikki awhile to figure it out, almost an embarrassingly long while. When she did though, her eyes went wide and then fell half closed. Her head tilted to one side and her body seemed to follow. She looked somewhat like a lifeless puppet someone had just set down.

Dean continued drinking and Sally let out a rather simple sigh.

"You did all look like you were friendly with each other," she hoped it would help.

* * *

It was a good thing Sally did have an elevator in the house. Sam did not think, with his hands, that he could have gotten Dean up the flight of stairs by himself, and it didn't seem like the Charles sisters were going to help. Neither of them had looked Sam or Dean in the eyes since dinner, which was made easier by Dean camping out in the kitchen, drinking. Sam almost joined him a few times, but he knew his mouth tended to wander when he was drunk and now was a bad time for that.

"Come sail away! Come sail away! Come sail away with meeee!" Dean sang as Sam walked him down the hall on the second floor. The way he was walking, Dean may as well be on a boat.

"You need to learn how to deal with situations better," Sam told him as he found the door he knew would be their room. There was a post-it note with their names on it. She thinks of everything, that Sally.

Of course, she didn't think to tell Sam his brother would spend the night in an alcoholic daze.

Walking into the room, Sam dropped his brother onto the first bed they came to. The first thing Dean did upon lying there was burp loudly, and then giggle at how it had felt.

"Shook the bed," he slurred out. Sam let out a sigh. Why did Dean have to do this to him now? Sam really needed his brother here right not. He wasn't good at making things seem lighter, he never had been. Dean was, why wasn't Dean here?

And Sam really didn't want to carry their bags up, his hands still hurt, even if Dean's ankle didn't.

* * *

The Charles sister joined Sally in a small foyer on the first floor. There was a fireplace in the room and Sally thought she'd cheer her friends up by lighting it and supplying marshmallows and long sticks. The sisters sat up close to the fire roasting their marshmallows to golden perfection. Nikki had two on her stick, one for herself and one for Sally. Despite being psychic, Sally's marshmallows always seemed to be Hindenburg reenactors. Nikki offered to roast her one, which was good, since Alex spend so much time ranting she left little time to watch her marshmallow. Four had met a fiery end before she calmed down enough to roast properly. Nikki found herself once again only able to communicate with one person in the room, as she was unable to sign and hold her marshmallow stick at the same time.

"I know it isn't the history you'd like to have, but you have to remember, no one has the history they'd like," Sally told them. She felt like adding validity to this by citing her own history and dropping phrases like 'attempted genocide,' but didn't. This wasn't about the sisters and her.

"You shouldn't be mad at the Winchesters, either," she said rather adamantly, causing Alex to look at her, "they may have owned you legally, but from what I saw they didn't act like it. You argued back at them, questioned them. You said 'no,' and how many slaves ever got to say that to the people who owned them? And some man, he said something to you, something bad, and it seemed to hurt those brothers as much as it did you."

Alex turned back to her marshmallow, and saw Nikki look over at her in the corner of her eye. Alex knew she shouldn't be mad at Sam and Dean, or even Samuel and Daniel, but it is a long known thing that what one knows and what one feels are at times completely different. She was upset, and she doubted any logical would be useful to her now.

* * *

Nikki went to take a shower and Alex brought their bags in from the car. She noticed Sam's and Dean's bags were gone and, having noticed Dean's inebriated state, figured Sam must have come down and gotten them both himself. She wasn't angry enough to worry about Sam's rope burned hands and his pain. It didn't help he had gotten those rope burns saving her sister's life. And Dean's ankle, now healed, that had been to help them too.

Why was she still so angry with them?

Alex said good night to Sally and went up to the room she and her sister were sharing. Nikki was already taking her shower in the bathroom connected to their room. Alex dug through her sister's bag and set out her night clothes on the bed Alex thought looked a little lumpy. She loved her sister, but damned if Alex was going to choose the lumpy bed and let Nikki have the nice one. Nikki seemed to have been ahead of her on this, and sitting on the pillow of the nice bed was a page out of the notebook she always carried. Alex sat down and read it, knowing it was for her.

"_We are the masters of ourselves. No one could ever own you. Many will try, and some will think they do, but they are fools. My sister is a hurricane: she moves of her own accord, stops only when she wants to, is strong, fierce, unable to be tamed, and hates southern Florida,_" Alex let out a soft laugh, "_Know I will always love you and be proud of you, chains or no chains. You are free."_

Nikki came into the room them, a towel around her body and a shower cap on her head. She stopped when she saw Alex reading the note. Alex looked at her and smiled, so Nikki smiled back.

* * *

Dean woke up in the night and went in search of a bathroom. He hadn't really been in his right mind when Sam found the bathroom connected to their room, and so found himself having to pee without any porcelain to help him out. He staggered around in the dark hallways of the second floor, his muscles slow and weak from alcohol and sleep. He hated walking around a stranger's house at night, especially not knowing where he was going and most especially in his underwear. The cats had woken up to watch him, too, and he could see the eerie flashes of their eyes in the dark. They were lucky he wasn't armed. They did seem to be following him, though, and he knew their snooty little cat minds were thinking he was an idiot, or a buffoon, probably. Buffoon seemed more like a word a cat would use.

"Why don't you quit following me and just point me to the can?" he asked one set of shiny eyes.

"It's on the right wall five feet in front of you," a voice said. Dean was drunk and disorderly enough to stumble to the ground in surprise. One of them answered him! They hadn't, of course, and Sally rolled closer to him, out of the pitch dark and into the dark his eyes had adjusted to. With him on the ground and her in the chair, she was taller than him. She seemed to him some sort of seated, supreme goddess, but he was still sort of drunk

"Thanks," was all he managed to say. She put the brakes on her wheels and helped him up. Dean practically had to climb up her wheelchair, and he was glad it was dark enough to hide the indignity of it.

"It's the door just past the picture of a…" she noticed the dazed look in his eyes, "follow me."

She turned around and rolled a few feet down the hall. Dean followed her and swung the open door she pointed to wide enough to get inside.

"We'll talk when you get out," she seemed to think of this as a warning, and Dean thought of it as one.

* * *

Normally, Dean would feel guilty taking the elevator down only one floor, it made him feel lazy and he wasn't lazy, but with Sally beside him, he pushed these feelings aside. He followed her into the elevator, which smelled different from any other place in the house due to being metal and not wood, and followed her out onto the first floor. Even in the dark Sally was able to maneuver around the furniture of her home effortlessly, while Dean would move a few steps and then hit something time and time again. He thought he was being less agile than a woman in the wheelchair, and felt slightly shamed. After they entered a room that smelled like burnt marshmallows, Sally told him to close the door behind him as she turned on a light. Dean could see now that Sally hadn't dressed for bed, and was still wearing the clothes he had met her in. Obviously she knew they would have a talk in the night, and Dean felt it was rude of her not to tell him earlier. He would have worn pants if he'd known. Sally beckoned him to a chair and he sat down. It was a little soft for his tastes but oh well. He tried to sit there with as much dignity and confidence as he could, but, again, no pants.

"So you wanted to talk?" he asked her, still trying to seem sophisticated. If Sam were there he'd have rolled his eyes.

"Don't you want to know about your power?" Sally leaned forward on to her knees to ask him slyly. Dean didn't know quite what to say, which was something. He didn't like her calling it that, it made him sound like, like Sam.

"What can you tell me?" he asked gingerly. A part of him didn't want to know, a part of him wanted to continue to pretend his dreams had all just been coincidences, or drunken visions, even. Dean wanted to go on ignoring that. But, even as he was now, Dean could realize ignoring it was what Sam had done, and Jessica was dead because of it. He had to face this, and figure it out. He had to be brave enough to understand.

"It seems you and your brother are opposites. He's pre-cog, right?" Sally asked and Dean nodded, "well, looks like you're post-cog. Sam has visions of the future, you the past. He sees what will be, you see what has been."

"But that's not possible…" Dean was afraid. Not afraid like he was of losing Sam, this wasn't the sort of fear of loss, this was the world shattering kind. If Dean really was like it seemed he was, he'd be a completely different person. That's not true, of course, powers or no powers he'd still be Dean Winchester, it jut seemed like he'd be different. The fact of him would change.

"Why not? Why can't you be? Your brother is," Sally narrowed her eyebrows at him.

"But that's Sam! He's special, he's really special, you don't know how much," was a stupid thing for him to say to a psychic. She thought so too.

"Because of that demon and your mother? I don't think that has anything to do with this," she said frankly. Again Dean was silent, trying to figure out how that could be. Sam had powers because that demon had done something to him, that's how Dean had always explained it to himself, when he actually thought about it. He tried not to think about it if he could help it.

"Then why is he- we… like this?" again he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Sally shrugged.

"I have no idea, I just don't feel any demon feelings about you guys. I think you got your powers some other way. I can't say what," she told him. Dean leaned back into the soft seat, looking rather defeated. Sally went on, "but that's not uncommon. Most psychics don't know why they can do what they do. I don't, well, not really. These powers have been in my family for, well, a long time. An ancestor of mine once told his people about pale men carrying sticks that shot fire, and no one believed him."

She gave him a pointed look that Dean was still too drunk to really understand.

"I inherited my powers," Sally continued anyway, "but where my ancestors first got it from is a complete mysterious. So big of one generations of powerful psychics can't figure it out!"

"So there's no telling why I can… do what I can do?" Dean got that point. Sally gave him a simple look, now.

"I don't know about that, some people do know," she took an important pause here as she thought about a person who did know, "I'm just saying don't be too upset if you never figure it out."

But Dean did want to know, he wanted to know why he was like this so he could fix it, make it go away. The dreams and visions weren't so bad themselves, just the fact of what they changed him into. He was some horrible Not-Dean monster, now. For some reason the only thing that seemed to make him feel better was to rub his hands over his face.

"I should probably be reminding you about how Sam's powers didn't change who he was at all," Sally said and Dean looked at her between his fingers, "but frankly, Dean, things are more important then that."

"_How_?" he brought his hands down. Who he was seemed pretty damn important. But Sally's face changed, then, she became very serious, so serious Dean began to feel like his crisis of self was, indeed, not important.

"Because, what you're hunting, what you and your brother and Nikki and Alex all came here for, is based around something that happened in the past. I can see that, the answer is there, in your past. And you're a post-cog, Dean, you can see it if you look for it," she told him rather dramatically. Dean had to gulp.

"C-can't you?" he asked her. Sally shook her head.

"My post-cog abilities are weak at best. I can't see what's behind this, and I can't help you," she seemed to have enough self-esteem not to say this apologetically. Dean needed a drink.

"Then what good is all of this?" he practically growled.

"I said I can't help you, but I know a post-cog who can," she told him simply. Dean looked carefully at her.

"Who?"

* * *

"So, why are we going to see Nino?" Alex asked as she chewed on some toast while simultaneously passing Nikki the jam. Nikki hadn't asked for it, but Alex knew her well enough to know she was about to. Sally gave Alex a pleased little grin and Dean hung his head slightly. Sam figured Dean was still a little hung over.

"You know his post-cog abilities are better than mine. All of this has to do with your past lives, he'd be the one to see," Sally explained. Alex nodded in understanding and Nikki put jam on her toast.

"Who is this guy, anyway?" Sam asked curiously.

"And why do _you two_ know him?" Dean grumbled at the sisters. Alex frowned at him and Nikki wiped jam off where she had dribbled it down her shirt.

"Nino Valdez. He's a post-cog living in Tallahassee. We met him years ago, a whole bunch of us, when we happened to come to the same house to get rid of a ghost," Sally explained.

"Yeah, you'll be meeting more of the crew now. Sally, Nino, and…" Alex stopped herself and the table went silent. Sally's smile faded and Nikki looked down at her plate.

"And?" Dean pressed on because he can be an idiot sometimes.

"Louise," Sally forced a little smile, "we all met at the same time."

Now Sam looked glumly at his plate, but it took Dean a moment to realize Louise had been the woman whose murder they had so recently investigated. He cleared his throat when he realized.

"How many others are in this crew of yours, then?" he sort of changed the subject.

"Josie, another psychic and Robert, he, oh!" Alex snapped her figures as a thought came to her. She turned to her sister. "We gotta get a new EMF meter from Robert, ours broke in the theatre, remember?"

Nikki remembered more the dangling for her life but yeah, their meter broke.

"Is he where you got your's?" Sam asked Alex excitedly. She nodded and Sam turned to his brother, "maybe we can get one too, huh?"

The fact that Dean gave him brother a long, silent stare of death really goes without saying.

* * *

Partly because of Sam's hands, partly because Sam helped him out so much the night before, and partly because he was keeping something major from his brother, Dean carried all of their luggage down to the Impala and threw it in the trunk. The Charles sisters' stuff was already in there, packed neatly over on one side. One of the sisters had to be a master organizer, Dean decided. He knew when they had their own car, their things had taken up the entire trunk, but now they had compacted their belongings and packed them so well it took up a little less then half of the Impala's trunk. Of course the Winchester brothers' two duffel bags didn't need half the trunk, but Dean didn't want to tell the sisters that. They took so much effort to pack well it'd be a shame to ruin it for them.

Sam came walking down the ramp to the car now. He had noticed Dean wordlessly taking his stuff to the car, and had it been anyone else but Dean he would have said 'thank you.' But they were Winchesters, and that sort of thing wasn't said.

"Alex and Nikki are saying their good-byes to Sally," he told his brother. Dean nodded and leaned against the car, facing the front door to wait for them. Now that he could stand on his two feet without pain he liked to as much as he could. Sam came and leaned on the car beside him to likewise wait. There was silence for a moment.

"So, Dean…" Sam started. There was something that had been bugging him, he wasn't sure if it was any of his business but he wanted to ask anyway.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean could tell that was the sort of 'So, Dean…' that lead to hard questions and he wanted to put Sam off it as much as possible. In fact, Sam had been thinking too much about how to phrase the question he hadn't even noticed the name.

"I noticed you got up in the middle of the night and left the room. You were gone for quite awhile…"

Oh _crap_! Dean though. Why did his brother have to be so damn observant? Okay, okay, he could lie to Sam, he's done it before. Maybe Dean had been sick, maybe he'd gotten lost, maybe he went down to get something to eat..?

"You didn't sleep with her, did you? Sally, I mean. Did you?" Sam asked.

Dean could have laughed out loud. Good old Sammy!

He was about to tell his brother he hadn't and given him a lie about where he'd been, but all he managed was a smirk and a shrug before the Charles sisters came out of the house, surrounded by the pack of dogs Dean had come to refer to as 'the Rogue's Gallery.'

Whatever answer Sam got from that smirk and shrug he kept to himself.

"Yes, yes, we love you too, now get the hell away from us!" Alex warned the dogs as she walked around the car and put her fingers on the handle of the driver's seat.

"_Hey_!" Dean yelled at her, watching her. She looked up at him in surprise. He gave her a very powerful glare and raised his arms as if to ask 'What the hell?'

"What..?" Alex asked confused. Dean's reply was to only strengthen these two actions. Alex turned to Sam instead.

"Sam, can you translate?" she asked him. He turned to his brother, looked him up and down and thought for a moment.

"Oh!" he said at last and turned to Alex, "his foot's fine. He's driving."

Alex let out an aggravated sigh, as children do when separated from a cool toy prematurely, and she and Dean walked around the car, essentially trading placed. She was still frowning as she got in behind Sam.

Dean had a devilish smile on his face as he sat down in the driver's seat again at last. Is first order of action, after shutting the door, buckling himself in, and gently turning on the motor like a long lost lover, was to pop a cassette into the player.

"_Hold your head up! Oh! Hold you head up!_" blared out of the speakers.

"Now _this_ is what I'm talking about!" he yelled happily. Alex, who was still frowning, had to put her fingers in her ears against the loud music.

"_We all hate you_!" she yelled at him as the car traveled down the driveway, a pack of dogs barking after it.


End file.
